


Breaking Cherry

by nochick_fics



Series: Breaking Cherry [1]
Category: True Blood, Vassalord
Genre: Blood Drinking, Crossover, M/M, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7766458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Charley and Johnny, vacationing in Bon Temps is anything but peaceful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

From his spot on the veranda, Charley stared in awe at the lake, noting in particular the way the moonlight danced across its surface.  The night was crisp and clear around him and the sky was riddled with stars, and he thought that he had seldom seen such a sight, breathtaking in its natural simplicity.  In and of itself, he supposed that it wasn’t a big deal and Johnny would probably agree, preferring the coolness and comfort of the vacation house and all of the spoils within to any of God’s more natural splendor.  But even so, Charley felt as if he could stand out there forever, gazing upon the beauty and majesty of that which could never be duplicated by man.   
   
He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly.  The air was different here, slightly heavier, with a touch of earthiness that he had never experienced elsewhere.  Something buzzed nearby, some manner of bug that thrived in the South.  Perhaps a mosquito seeking a meal, he thought with a wry smile.  There were other sounds as well, each with its own distinctness, and all indicative of Louisiana wildlife.  Charley even thought he heard the faraway cry of a wolf in the din.  He leaned forward over the railing and listened to the chorus, fascinated beyond measure.  It was all so very peaceful--  
   
_“Cherry!”_  
   
Charley’s teeth involuntarily clenched upon hearing _that_ name.  But when he turned around, any agitation he felt vanished immediately.   
   
Though he _was_ slightly agitated by his lack of agitation.  
   
Johnny stepped out onto the veranda bearing two glasses of merlot and a coy smile.  His dark, wavy hair hung down over his shoulders, and he wore a loose white button-down shirt and black pants.  From the minute they arrived at the house, his shoes came flying off and hadn’t been seen since, though his bare feet only added to the effect.  Charley found him annoyingly attractive like this, laid back and not quite as petulant as usual, and he promptly blamed it on the surroundings.  Anyone would look good in such a setting.  
   
“Cherry,” Johnny cooed, easing beside him and offering him a glass.  “How much longer are you going to stand out here doing nothing?”

Charley took the offered drink.  “Why? Are you bored already?”  
   
“Dreadfully.”   
   
Charley smiled into his glass before taking a sip.  “We’ll check out the town tomorrow,” he promised.  “I just thought it would be a good idea to stay in and relax our first night.”  
   
“You know, if you’re looking to relax, I have some ideas--”  
   
“No thank you.”  
   
“Damn.”  
   
Johnny hooked his arm through Charley’s, a move that normally would have caused the cyborg to shake him off and feign annoyance to mask his embarrassment.  But the lure of sharing a moment with his master beneath the full moon and the stars proved too great to resist and so he allowed it.  They drank in silence and stared out into the night.  Eventually, Johnny spotted a shooting star and wished to claim Charley’s virginity, to which Charley could only shake his head.   
   
“I hate to disappoint you, but I fully intend on leaving Bon Temps with my sanctity intact.”  
   
“Oh well,” Johnny replied. “I guess I’ll just have to pop my Cherry’s cherry another time.”  
   
“Master!”  
   
Johnny laughed and drained his glass.  “You’re adorable when you’re scandalized.”  
   
“And you are absolutely reprehensible,” Charley shot back, thankful that the darkness concealed his blush.  
   
“Yeah,” Johnny agreed.  “But I’m hot so that makes up for it, right?”  
   
Despite his best efforts to the contrary, Charley grinned.  Johnny followed suit, then helped himself to the rest of Charley’s wine.   
   
“So,” he began, polishing off the second glass.  “Do you think our local brethren will welcome us with open arms?”  
   
Charley pushed up his glasses and sighed as he contemplated Johnny’s question.  “I think so,” he said.  “As long as they don’t get wind of my chosen profession.”  
   
Johnny nodded solemnly.  “True.  Somehow I don’t think the ‘I’m taking a week off from vampire killing’ explanation would go over so well.”  
   
“Probably not.”   
   
“Because you _are_ taking a break from it, right?”  Johnny set the glasses on the railing and turned to look at Charley.  “ _Right_ , Cherry?”  
   
“My name is--”  
   
“Don’t change the subject.”  
   
Charley looked into the face of his creator, which exhibited a rare expression of concern.  From the moment that they had first planned this trip, he knew full well that they might see things during their excursion that he did not wish to see and that his conscience was such that he might have difficulty looking the other way.  Being free from the duties of the Church in no way at all meant reprieve from his duty to God.  And while he had no active intention of walking into establishments and staking hearts, there was never a waking moment during which he wasn’t prepared to do so, and being on holiday was no exception.  The best that he could hope for during the next seven days was that he was not put into a position where he had to reveal the truth of his identity.  
   
In short, as long as the vampires of Bon Temps did not treat the human population like mere cattle, then his secret--and their _lives_ \--would be safe.   
   
“Right,” he finally said, taking Johnny by the hand and pressing his cheek against the vampire’s palm.  It was a conditional truth, but the truth all the same.  For now.  
   
Johnny did not appear completely convinced by the assertion but before he could protest, Charley’s lips were on him, grazing their way along his open hand until they reached his wrist.  He hissed sharply as Charley’s fangs penetrated him, but as always, it was good pain, _desired_ pain, and Johnny trailed his fingers along Charley’s face as he drank from the shallow bite.   
   
“Cheater,” he whispered shakily, stepping closer and stroking Charley’s hair with his free hand.  
   
After drinking enough to sate him momentarily, Charley released Johnny and gently kissed the wound, which had already started to heal.  He had heard tell of that Tru Blood drink and would give it a try soon enough, but somehow Charley did not believe that it would taste nearly as sweet as his maker.   
   
“Let’s go inside,” he said, the moon and the stars and the lake forgotten.   
   
Johnny grabbed the glasses from the railing and pulled Charley towards the door.  “Go easy on me.  I’ve got to last you an entire week.”  
   
This time, Charley made no promises.  
   
*****  
   
Had the two vampires been concerned with anything else besides each other, they might have sensed the glowing eyes that watched their every move from a distance until they disappeared into the house.   
   
They had smelled… different.  The blond one was unlike anything that the werewolf had ever come across, part flesh and part human meddling.  And the other one was old.  Very old.  Not as old as Eric but very likely older than Bill.   
   
It didn’t appear as if they were there to start trouble.  But that was the thing about Bon Temps; sometimes one didn’t have to go looking for trouble for trouble to find him.  Especially when said one wasn’t a human being.  Either way, it wasn’t the wolf’s problem.  Unfortunately, however, that was _also_ the thing about Bon Temps; sometimes the problems of another had a way of becoming one’s own.   
   
Oh yes, Alcide knew that all too well.  
   
He trotted back through the woods in the direction from which he came, towards civilization--though smartly avoiding people--until he reached his house, whereupon he shifted back into his tanned and muscular human form.  He went inside, threw on a pair of shorts, and fetched himself a cold one.  After downing a couple more, he called it a night and climbed into bed, falling asleep shortly thereafter and sparing no more thought to the two vampires in the house by the lake… and with no way of knowing that twenty-four hours from now, he would make their acquaintance in the most unexpected of ways.


	2. Chapter 2

While Charley had the distinct advantage of being a daywalker, one of the _dis_ advantages of being so--at least when he was not away on assignment--was finding a sleep routine that would allow him to function during daylight while still being awake for a majority of the night in order to appease a certain spoiled rotten brat of a vampire who demanded his presence after the sun went down.  After much trial and error, he was finally able to settle on crawling into bed around four or five in the morning and getting up sometime in the early afternoon to tend to his affairs until the evening.  So far it worked well for him… as long as that same certain spoiled rotten brat of a vampire did not attempt to do something sexually inappropriate to him while he slept, which, sadly but not surprisingly, happened often.  
   
Charley hated to admit it, but while he savored the hours of peace and quiet, hours without having to hear cries of “Cherry!” to the point where he wanted to scream, seeing Johnny emerge from his slumber, groggy and yawning and hair wildly disheveled, was his favorite moment of the day.  It never failed to bring a smile to his face, one he usually had to try and conceal before Johnny caught wind of his open adoration, which was why he quickly got up from the table and went to the refrigerator when Johnny stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand like the world’s largest living dead child.  
   
“Cherry,” he moaned, sounding more like a zombie than a vampire.  
   
“Good evening,” Charley said, taking a vial of blood from the fridge.  “Did you sleep well?”  
   
In reply, Johnny moaned again and plopped down on a chair.  
   
Charley grabbed a mug from the cupboard, poured the blood into it, and placed it in the microwave for a minute to take off the chill.  “That good?”  
   
“ _You_ try sleeping in a crawlspace,” Johnny mumbled.  He retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.  “It’s not fun.”  
   
“Unfortunately, our options were a bit limited since we didn’t bring your coffin,” Charley pointed out.  “Do you want to buy one while we’re here?”  
   
Johnny waved off the suggestion.  “I’ll manage.”  
   
Charley removed the mug from the microwave and placed it before the drowsy vampire.   He then located a saucer and set it beside the mug; there were no ashtrays in the house, so it would have to do.  “I don’t mind,” he said, sitting down beside Johnny.  “Whatever will help you get through the day.”  
   
“Well, if you were down there with me…”  
   
“Anything but that.”  
   
“Jeez, you’re a total stick in the mud, Cherry,” Johnny pouted.  He tapped ash onto the small plate and picked up the mug, taking a sip.  
   
Charley immediately glanced down at the tabletop, noting its smooth and polished surface save for one small nick near the edge.  He did not normally pay such close attention to the details of furniture, but it proved to be a suitable distraction whenever Johnny partook of sustenance in his presence.  Sometimes he was able to overlook it without sparing it a thought.  Other times, though, when the smell of human blood hit him, it beckoned to the animalistic side of his nature in a way that was frightening, creating within him a dangerous urge that seemed almost insurmountable.   
   
“Hey, Cherry?”  
   
“Yes?”  Charley kept his eyes on the table, trying his best to sound casual even as his hunger was threatening to take hold of him.  
   
Johnny was staring at him, knowingly.  No surprise, really; no one else short of God knew Charley the way he did.   
   
“Would you bring me that extra pack of cigarettes from your suitcase? I’m almost out.”   
   
Thankful for the diversion, Charley got up and left the kitchen.  Once in the bedroom, he grabbed his suitcase, tossed it on top of the bed, and opened it.  Indeed, a second pack of Johnny’s preferred brand was still in there, right where Charley had put it after confiscating it along with Johnny's present pack before their red-eye flight; had he not, his maker would have likely attempted to smoke on the airplane in a fit of boredom.  And it would not have been the first time.  
  
He snatched them up and returned to the kitchen where Johnny stood at the sink, the cup drained and rinsed and out of sight.   
   
Yes, his master knew him well.  
   
“Here you go,” Charley said, handing him the smokes, his gratitude apparent.   
   
“Oh, Cherry."  Johnny's voice was low and full of pity.  "I will never understand why you insist on denying your instinct.”  He tossed the pack onto the counter and leaned back against the sink.  He then unbuttoned his shirt just enough to pull down the left sleeve, revealing his neck and shoulder.  “I worry for you without me.”  
   
While giving into his desire was easy enough, what Charley actually wanted more was for the day to come when he possessed the willpower to turn away the abhorrent addiction raging inside of him, to own it, instead of the other way around.   
   
But today was not that day.   
   
He approached Johnny and stood close to him, pinning him against the sink.  His fingers trailed along the smoothness of the vampire’s pale and flawless skin, slowly, lovingly.   
   
“So do I,” he whispered, burrowing his face into Johnny’s neck and biting down hard.  
   
*****  
   
“I spoke with Sam Merlotte today.  He wanted to make sure that everything was okay with the house.”  
   
“The next time you talk to him, tell him that his crawlspace sucks.”  
   
Charley chuckled and gazed down at the head resting on his thigh.  “You can tell him yourself later tonight.  He invited us to his restaurant.  Merlotte’s Bar and Grill.”  
   
“Mm.  Sounds quaint.”  Johnny stretched lazily on the couch, his shirt now completely unbuttoned and half off, and his neck and shoulder covered in bite marks that were fast disappearing.  “If he hits on you, I’ll kick his ass,” he added casually.  
   
“Oh, good grief, Master,” Charley said with a shake of the head, neglecting to point out that historically speaking, Johnny was usually the one who was propositioned when they were together.  “I don’t even think he’s… like that.”  
   
Johnny reached up and poked Charley on the chin.  “You’re an expert on reading people all of a sudden?  You didn’t even realize that he was a shape-shifter.”  
   
Charley blinked at Johnny.  “He is?”  
   
Johnny nodded against Charley’s leg.   “It’s been ages since I’ve met a proper one.  The last time was before you were even born.  As far as I knew, their numbers dwindled to the point where history eventually wrote them off as legend.  I certainly never expected to come across one again, let alone in the backwoods of Louisiana of all places.”  
   
Charley was amazed.  When he had met Sam to pick up the keys to the house, he never had any reason to suspect that the man was anything other than an ordinary human.   
   
Perhaps Bon Temps would turn out to be more interesting than he had anticipated.  
   
*****  
   
“Alright, ladies, listen up.”  
   
Sam tapped his fingers on the desktop and waited patiently for Sookie, Tara, and Arlene to give him their undivided attention.  Sookie caught on quick enough, but when it became clear that Tara and Arlene were going to continue chatting amongst themselves, he tried again:  
   
“Can the two of you shut your traps for one minute?”  
   
He grinned at their matching expressions of shock and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender; knowing Tara, he was also ready to duck, if need be.  But to his utter astonishment, she merely folded her arms and leveled a death glare at him, ruffled but otherwise silent.   
   
“Thank you.”  
   
“One minute, Sam,” Arlene said.  It was truly about all she could handle.  
   
“I’ve been hearing some complaints lately about some of the _attitude_ around here,” Sam began, eyeing Tara.  
   
“That Fortenberry bitch can kiss my ass,” she snapped.  
   
“Be that as it may,” Sam continued, ignoring the snickering of Sookie and Arlene.  “You can’t go around telling customers to go fuck themselves.”  
   
“Not to their faces, anyway,” Sookie cheekily added.  
   
Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.  “Look, just try not to offend _everyone_ who walks through the door tonight, okay?”  
   
“Okay,” Sookie said.  
   
“Fine,” Arlene added.  
   
“Whatever,” Tara muttered.  
   
The trio turned to leave the office when Sam spoke up again.  
   
“Oh, I almost forgot.  A couple of fellows I’m renting to might stop by tonight.  Be nice to _them_ at the very least, would you?  They’re from out of town and may still be under the impression that people in Bon Temps are actually kind.”  
   
“Are they single?” Tara asked.   
   
“Uh… I think they’re attached,” Sam replied cautiously.  “To each other.”  
   
Arlene gasped in shock.  “Oh my God!  Like Siamese twins?”  
   
“Good Lord, Arlene, I’ll explain it to you later,” Tara said to the clueless redhead.  “Come on.”  
   
They left the office, leaving Sookie and Sam to share a laugh.   
   
“Wow,” he said.  
   
“But that’s why we love her,” Sookie pointed out.   
   
“Yeah.”  Sam regarded the young woman, his expression growing soft.  “So other than dealing with confused co-workers, how are you doing, Sookie?”  
   
“I’m good,” Sookie replied, nodding for emphasis.  
   
“I’m glad to hear that.”  
   
And he was, genuinely… even if he wasn’t part of the reason.   
   
“Say,” he continued, changing the subject before he could dwell on thoughts of Sookie and Bill--because there would be more than enough opportunity for that later.  “If those guys _do_ happen to come in tonight...”  
   
“I won’t let Tara or Arlene come within five feet of them.”  
   
“Thank you.”  
   
“Do you want me to tell Lafayette to prepare anything in particular for them?  A free appetizer or something?”  
   
“Uh…”  Sam averted his gaze, taking a strong and sudden interest in the wall.  
   
_“They’re vampires?”_  
   
“Hey!”  
   
“Don't yell at me.  You know I can’t help it sometimes.”  A slight creased formed in Sookie’s brow.  “You think I like having people’s thoughts rushing at me out of the blue?  Trust me, there are some things in this world that I do _not_ want to know.”  She lowered her voice to a whisper.  “Mrs. Fortenberry orders sex toys under her neighbor's name.  Why do I have to know that?”  
   
“Why do I?” Sam asked, horrified.  
   
Sookie grinned.  “Sorry,” she said.  “Anyway, yes, I will be on my best behavior tonight for your tenants, _and_ I’m going to assume that you asked me to serve them because of my delightfully chipper disposition and not because my boyfriend happens to be a vampire.”  
   
“Both,” Sam admitted with a wink.  “But mostly the chipper thing.”  
   
“Fair enough.”  Sookie smiled sweetly and stepped to the door.  “Don’t worry, Sam.  I will make sure that their experience at Merlotte's is one they will remember.”  
   
It was a statement that would turn out to be quite true.   
   
For all the wrong reasons.


	3. Chapter 3

For Charley and Johnny, who were used to the kind of establishments found in far larger cities, Merlotte’s Bar and Grill was--  
   
“--a dump!” Johnny exclaimed.  
   
“Master!”   
   
“Oh fine, it isn't really a dump.  It’s just...”   
   
Johnny paused, thinking.  
   
“… rustic.”  
   
With a large sigh--a common occurrence when dealing with Johnny--Charley maneuvered the rental car into a parking space and shut off the ignition.  He then turned and gave the vampire a stern glare.  Although his first glance at the restaurant and the patrons he saw entering and leaving made him wonder if they were slightly overdressed for the occasion, he was even more concerned about Johnny being, well, _Johnny_.  While Charley felt oddly at peace knowing that they were in a place where they did not have to hide the truth about what they were, a concept so unbelievable that he still had yet to wrap his head around it, he also knew that his master sometimes had a way of drawing the wrong kind attention to himself, even when he wasn’t trying.   
   
And considering the tiny little matter of what Charley did for a living, that was the last thing they needed.   
   
“Now, before we go inside--”  
   
“Relax, Cherry. I have no intention of scaring the locals.  You know that I am perfectly capable of being charming.”  Johnny reached across the seat and pushed Charley’s glasses up the bridge of his nose, his dark eyes amused and reassuring at the same time.  
   
“See?  I’m adorable.”  
   
Charley wanted to argue but he was somewhat biased on the matter, much to his chagrin.  
   
Johnny smiled victoriously.  “Come on,” he said, opening the car door.   “Let’s go have some gross fake blood.”  
   
*****  
   
Merlotte’s was just as rustic inside as it was out.  From what Charley could gather in a quick scan of the room, the clientele was comprised of all walks of life-- not that there appeared to be much variation.   Among the crowd were three road workers--or so Charley assumed noting the neon vests--who were huddled around a table and digging into their respective plates.  A plump, older woman sat by her lonesome at a booth, chugging down a glass of iced tea like she hadn’t had a drink in ages; Charley had no idea that this was the infamous Maxine Fortenberry, the same Maxine Fortenberry who drove Tara to ruin and apparently ordered sex toys under her neighbor’s name.  Just a few feet away from her, a family of four were wearing their Sunday best on a Saturday night and having a grand old time together over slices of pie.  All in all, Charley would not have been surprised if they all knew each other, if only by face or name.  
   
While the place didn’t come to a complete standstill when they entered the room, Charley could feel their eyes fall upon them all the same, sizing up the two outsiders who had stumbled into their neck of the woods.  It probably didn’t happen all that often.  From their stares, the ones particularly aimed at him, he sensed more curiosity than animosity, and considering his obvious physical modifications, he understood completely.  It wasn’t every day that a cyborg walked into the local bar and grill.  
   
They were immediately approached by a pretty blond hostess who, if Charley had to guess, appeared to be in her forties.  “Hello boys! Welcome to Merlotte’s,” she said with a pleasant drawl, smiling kindly.    
   
Her eyes widened briefly when she looked at Johnny.  Charley understood this as well; his master was quite the sight to behold, even more so up close.   
   
“Um.”  Though clearly flustered, she finally managed to tear her eyes away from him.  “T-Table for two?”  
   
Before Charley could reply, Johnny spoke up.  
   
“We would prefer a booth if possible.”  Even though it was wholly unnecessary, Johnny leaned forward deliberately and inspected the woman’s nametag for an embarrassing amount of time.  “Holly,” he all but purred, and it was all Charley could do not to roll his eyes over such blatant flirting.   
   
Holly, who was doing a terrible job at hiding her glee at having Johnny face to chest with her assets, nodded emphatically.  “Oh, sure!  I’ll go make sure we have one available for you.”  
   
Johnny waited until she walked away before turning to Charley.  “Charming enough for you?”  
   
“You are an absolute whore.”  
   
“I’ll take that as a yes.”  
   
*****  
   
Charley was glad that Johnny had requested the booth, in spite of his indelicate approach in procuring one.  It was about as secluded as they were going to get, and while they were still getting their fair share of stares, it was far preferable to being on display at a table… although the primary reason they were now the center of attention had less to do with their presence and more to do with the two waitresses standing at their booth, bickering over who would take their order.  
   
“I got here first, Tara,” the redheaded waitress said, glaring at her co-worker over the dish in her hands.  
   
“So fucking what?” the young woman with braids shot back.  “Why don’t you go take Fortenberry her food before she starts making a scene?”  
   
Oh, the irony.  
   
“By the way, what is that delightful looking entrée?” Johnny asked. Charley knew that he couldn’t have cared less but hopefully the diversion would prevent an all out catfight from erupting.  
   
The redhead--Arlene, from what Charley had been able to gather during all the back and forth--beamed at Johnny.  “Liver and onions.”  
   
Charley was utterly repulsed.  If he was still human, he would have _still_ chosen to drink blood over eating that monstrosity.   
   
“Would you like to try some tonight?” she asked.  
   
“No, thank you,” Johnny replied politely.  “The only organ I like to eat is--”  
   
_“Master.”_  
   
A pair of faces gawked openly at Charley’s manner of address.  But as awkward as it was--and was it ever--it was better that than for Johnny to say whatever it was that he was about to say.  
   
“Master?”  Tara smiled approvingly.  “So y’all are into the freaky stuff?”  
   
“Oooh, good question.”  Johnny folded his arms on top of the table and raised a curious brow.  “What exactly _are_ we into, Cherry?”  
   
Before Charley could murder his maker, another waitress rushed over to the table.  “What are you doing?” she asked Tara and Arlene.  “This is my table.”  
   
“We thought you were on break,” Arlene said.  
   
“Yeah, well my break is over.  And Mrs. Fortenberry is giving you the stink eye so you better get over there with her dinner.”  
   
Arlene sighed in resignation and turned to leave, thankfully taking that plateful of horror with her.  The young blond then turned to Tara.   
   
“Goodbye, Tara.”  
   
Tara reluctantly took her leave, but not before giving Charley and Johnny a look so full of lewd intentions that Charley, for one, almost felt physically violated.   
   
Johnny, on the other hand, loved every second of it.  
   
“Bye, Tara,” he called out, winking for emphasis.  
   
“Absolute,” Charley muttered, reiterating part of his previous assessment of Johnny’s character.   
   
“I am so, _so_ sorry about that,” the waitress said.  “Sam said you were coming in and I wanted to be ready for you and instead you had to hear those two carrying on and…”   
   
Realizing that she was rambling, the girl paused, took a deep breath, and smiled warmly.    
   
“My name is Sookie.  May I take your order?”  
   
*****  
   
Johnny could smell vampire on her.  But that wasn’t the issue.   
   
There was something else about her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that could prove to be a very big problem.  
   
Something that _would_ prove to be a very big problem in about ten minutes or so.   


	4. Chapter 4

Sookie had never met vampires like them. 

The one guy looked like a rock star with his longish hair, dark clothing, and thick silver-tone jewelry.  And the other one was… well, she wasn’t quite sure _what_ he was.  His face had a weird two tone thing going on, he had some sort of… cords or something… coming out of the back of his neck, and his hands were not like hands at all.  Not like  _human_ hands, that was.  He was almost like something out of a science fiction movie.

Regardless, they seemed like pretty nice guys.  And while Mr. Rock Star there had turned Tara and the others into piles of goo, Sookie did not have to be a mind reader to know that the _real_ object of his affection was sitting right across the table from him.  It was kind of cute, really. 

But enough about that.  She could contemplate the ways of gay vampires later.  As for now, she had a job to do.

*****

“Two bottles of Tru Blood it is,” Sookie confirmed cheerfully.  She smiled at Charley and Johnny then spun on her heels and headed back towards the kitchen.  

“Nice girl,” Johnny said.

Although his words sounded sincere, there was something in his delivery that caught Charley’s attention all the same, something the hunter might not have even noticed if not for the fact that Sookie was the one female employee of Merlotte’s that Johnny hadn’t essentially attempted to bed right there in the open.  Ultimately, however, he knew that pressing the issue was futile.  If there _was_ some deeper reasoning behind Johnny’s uncharacteristically chaste behavior towards her, Charley knew full well that there would be no uncovering the facts until Johnny chose to reveal them. 

Although that didn’t stop him from trying.

“Yes she is,” he replied.  “Considering how you threw yourself at everyone else, I’m surprised that I didn’t have to peel you off of her.”

“Oh Cherry, you know that you’re the only one for me,” Johnny cooed, nudging Charley’s foot beneath the table with his own. 

“Lying is a grave sin, you know.”

Johnny chuckled.  Apparently that was all he had to say on the subject.  Very well.

They fell silent, partaking of each other’s company and the surprisingly comfortable ambiance.  While they were still getting the occasional glance from a curious party, for the most part, Charley felt relatively at ease in all of the hominess. 

So far, aside from missing out on all of the luxuries that a bigger city had to offer, vacationing in Bon Temps was proving to be nicer than he had dared to imagine.  Being there with Johnny, just the two of them, away from the world as they knew it and free to be themselves… it was almost like a dream.  One in which he was not bound by any Church, one in which he did not kill any vampires--

_“Oh my God.”_

Charley turned to find Sookie holding two bottles of Tru Blood and staring at him, her eyes and mouth both open wide in horror. 

And he had no idea why.

“Is something wrong?” he asked her.

*****

_“Oh my God.”_

After a lifetime of practice, Sookie had become a regular pro at keeping her outward expression in check whenever she picked up on someone else’s thoughts, no matter what those thoughts might be.  But she was so taken aback by what just happened that she did not even think to conceal her surprise.

She had never been able to hear a vampire’s thoughts before.  In a twisted way, it was one of the more soothing aspects of their company, the lack of all that unwanted mental yammering.  But yet she had just heard the blond vampire’s thoughts, loud and clear. And those thoughts were about _killing other vampires._

Was that the real reason that they were in Bon Temps?

“Is something wrong?” the blond vampire--Charley, his name was Charley--asked her. 

“Uh… it’s…  just…”  Racking her brain for a suitable excuse, Sookie gripped the bottles of Tru Blood and--yes, that was it! 

“The Tru Blood,” she tried again.  “I-I completely forgot to warm it up.  To make it, you know, a little more… authentic… for you…”

It was complete horseshit, of course.  But luckily, they were unfamiliar with the product and therefore none the wiser.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Charley said.

“Either way, we promise that we won’t take it out on your tip,” Johnny added. 

Sookie laughed nervously and set the drinks down on the table.  “There you go,” she said, struggling to maintain a somewhat pleasant visage.  “Enjoy.”

She was barely able to wait for them to finish their thank you’s before hurrying into the back.  She ignored Tara and Arlene and their twenty questions--as well as their mutual assertion that they would both be willing to overlook their usual disinclination for undead loving to have a piece of Johnny--and shut herself into the bathroom.  After locking the door, she paced frantically about the small room, trying to gather her wits.

While she never really thought of herself as an ally of the majority of vampires she knew personally--Pam was a bitch and Eric was an asshole, for starters--it did not change the fact that her heart belonged to one.  And if Charley really was, for whatever reason, a vampire that killed his own kind, then it was up to her to warn him.

With shaky fingers, Sookie fished her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Bill’s number.

*****

“I wonder what that was about,” Charley pondered, staring in the direction of Sookie’s fast departure.

“Maybe she had to pee,” Johnny suggested. 

Charley would have laid into him for such an inelegant thought had he not once again been overcome with the feeling that the vampire was privy to more than he was letting on.  “Master, is there something that you need to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what is it?” Charley asked, leaning forward in his seat.

After glancing around the restaurant, Johnny leaned forward as well and lowered his voice to that of a conspirator’s. 

“Tru Blood… really isn’t true blood.”

Charley stared blankly at his master, who grinned openly at him. 

“Oh Cherry, you’re way too easy,” Johnny said.  “Come on, let’s try this crap.”

They both took a swig of Tru Blood.

Then they both cringed in disgust.

“That is just wretched.”  Johnny put down the bottle and pushed it aside.  “I’ve never tasted ass before but I’m pretty sure this is the flavor.”

“Well, it’s…” Charley began, trying to put a positive spin on it.  As it turned out, he couldn’t.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  God help him, the taste of it was still in his mouth, and it was _awful_.

Johnny slid out of his seat.  “I’m going to go have a smoke and try to forget that this just happened.  I’ll be right back.”

Charley was too preoccupied with trying to locate Sookie and request a glass of water so that he could rinse the atrocity from his mouth to notice that Johnny stopped to exchange a few words with Holly.  He also did not notice when she followed him outside...

*****

Five minutes later, Johnny returned to his seat.

“Better now?” Charley asked, taking a sip of the water that Arlene was kind enough to have gotten for him.

“Much,” Johnny replied.  

But only in the sense that he had found out what he needed to know.

It had been awhile since he’d had to use his power of persuasion on someone, a talent that some vampires referred to as glamouring--a very pretty term for what amounted to good old fashioned brainwashing.  But since he was pressed for time, he could ill afford to trust his natural sex appeal to get him the information that he sought from Holly, who had already forgotten certain parts of their conversation.

So Sookie was a telepath.  _That_ was the thing that he couldn’t quite place about her.  And while Johnny was fairly confident that she hadn’t been able to read him at all--one didn’t live as long as he had lived without being at least somewhat intuitive of such things--Charley was different. 

Charley was _special._

The girl had practically reeked of a vampire’s touch.  Knowing that, if she had somehow been able to read Charley’s mind and felt the need to warn others…

No.  That was unacceptable.  Johnny could deal with his own persecution.  Years upon years of Barry’s special brand of torture and abuse saw fit to that. 

But he would sooner destroy Bon Temps and everyone in it before he would allow any harm to come to Charley, without hesitation or regret. 

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. 

“Cherry.”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s time to leave.”


	5. Chapter 5

“I don’t understand why we have to leave so soon,” Charley said as he buckled his seatbelt.  “We didn’t even have a chance to say hello to Sam.”

Johnny fastened his own belt and cast a sidelong glance at the cyborg.  “We can do that later and did I mention I would kick his ass if he hit on you?”

“Master…”

“Look, I just thought it would be a good idea since we have to drive all the way to Shreveport,” Johnny added.  “Honest.”

Charley started the car.  “You are incapable of being honest.”   

“I want you to fuck me, Cherry.  How’s that for being honest?”

Charley gaped in shock at Johnny’s words… and proceeded to back the car directly into the side door of a van that happened to be driving past.

“Oh no,” he murmured, peering into the rearview mirror. His mind was still reeling over Johnny's words.  Not that he was truly all that surprised; Johnny would probably screw a chair if it pleased him. But to hear him say such a thing out loud...

Johnny turned around and looked out of the back in an attempt to assess the damage.  “Let me get this straight.  You won’t kill by feeding but a little vehicular manslaughter is acceptable?”

“Oh shut up.” 

Charley killed the ignition and got out of the car.  He hurried to the rear of the vehicle and found himself face-to-face with a rather tall, rather muscular man.

“Why _hello_ ,” Johnny said, joining him.

“Are you alright?” Charley asked, ignoring his master’s egregious whorishness. 

“I’m fine.”  The man’s voice was noticeably deep, as one might have expected from someone with such a sizeable frame.  “Are you?”

Charley nodded.  “We’re okay--”

“Actually, I have a little pain right about here,” Johnny cut in, teasingly rubbing his chest.  “Maybe you’d like to take a look-- _ow_!”

Smiling apologetically, as if he did not just elbow the hell out of his maker, Charley continued speaking.  “I am so sorry about this.  I was… distracted.”

“As long as nobody was hurt,” the stranger replied. He inspected the side of the van.  After a moment, he nodded to himself as if in affirmation. “That’s nothing I can’t fix myself,” he said.  “And your car’s just fine.  I don’t see any reason to go through the hassle of reporting anything.”

“Are you sure?” Charley asked.  “I feel like we should compensate you somehow.”

“I have some suggestions,” Johnny piped in.

The man glanced worriedly at Johnny before turning his attention back to Charley.  “Don’t worry about it,” he said.  “Trust me, this van’s gone through far worse than a little bump.”

Charley sighed in relief.  “That’s very kind of you, Mister…”

“Herveaux.  Alcide Herveaux. You can just call me Alcide.”

“Alcide,” Charley repeated, shaking his hand.  “I’m Charles Chrishunds.”  He cringed inwardly before continuing.  “And this is…”

“Johnny Rayflo.” Johnny wedged his way between them and offered his hand to Alcide.  “ _Very_ nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Alcide replied, though it did not sound as if he was sure that he meant it.

“I have an idea,” Johnny continued after the large man had to practically pry his hand from the vampire’s grasp.  “I think that we should exchange phone numbers just in case.  Say for instance you get home and your door falls off.  It would be terrible if you had no way to get in touch with us.”

“Well, uh, Johnny, was it?  I don’t really think that’s going to happen--”

“Cherry, be a dear and grab a pen and some paper out of the car, please.”

While Johnny actually had a point--for all the wrong reasons--Charley was beyond mortified by his approach.  “Maybe we shouldn’t--”

“Thank you, Cherry.”

Charley sighed and did as he was told.  Besides, he knew full well that there was no arguing with Johnny once he made up his mind to do something.

He returned to the car and began rooting around for pen and paper, praying to God that Johnny would not say or do anything to further humiliate him.

*****

 “So you’re from out of town?” Alcide asked.

“Yes we are. We’re staying at Sam Merlotte’s place over by the lake.” 

Johnny leaned against the back of the car.  With Charley occupied, now he could finally say what he _really_ wanted to say:

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?  Seeing as how you came over last night for a visit.”

Alcide’s eyes widened.  “How do you know that?”

“Did you think that werewolves were the only ones with a sense of smell? Speaking of smells, yours is very… _distinct_.  Almost sexual, really.”  Johnny smiled knowingly and looked the big man up and down without a shred of shame for doing so. “You know, I’ve always imagined wolfpacks to be these groups of majestic and savage beasts, fighting and fucking nonstop.  Is that about right?”

 “Uh… well, I don’t belong to a pack,” Alcide informed him.  “But I’m pretty sure that’s not quite how it goes.”

“Aw, damn.”

“Sorry to ruin your illusion.  And about last night…”  He ran a hand over his beard as he thought about how to proceed.  “I was just making sure that you weren’t… well… you have to understand that Bon Temps has enough supernatural bullshit to deal with.”

“I get it,” Johnny said solemnly.  “And it’s not as if vampires have historically endeared themselves to your kind, so I understand the concern. But I can assure you that we're not here to cause anyone any trouble.” 

He flashed Alcide a charming smile.  It usually worked on the ladies, but apparently not so much on heterosexual werewolves. 

“Anyway, look.  The next time that you’re out werewolfing in our area, stop in and say hello.  We won’t bite…unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

“Master!”

Johnny sighed.  If he had a nickel for every single time Charley said his name…

*****

Charley sighed.  If he had a nickel for every single time he had to say Johnny’s name…

“Here,” he said, handing him the paper and pen. 

As Johnny started to write, Charley turned to Alcide. 

“Again, I’m really sorry about hitting you.” He glanced suspiciously at Johnny. “As well as _anything else_ that may warrant an apology.”

“Hey, I was a perfect gentleman,” Johnny asserted, handing the paper and pen to Alcide.

“For the most part,” Alcide agreed.

With names and numbers exchanged, the vampires bid the werewolf farewell.  Charley backed out--this time without incident--and headed out towards Shreveport on the way to...

“What’s this club called?”

“Fangtasia.”

Charley frowned.  He didn’t care for the name. 

While their visit to Merlotte’s had gone well--save for Johnny’s Don Juan antics and Sookie’s strange behavior--Fangtasia was sure to be one of those places that he dreaded most, one that celebrated all aspects of vampiric hedonism in the worst possible way. 

The sort of way that might prove to be a little bit troublesome.

*****

Johnny stared out of the passenger side window into the Louisiana night.  It was easy to tell that they were getting closer to Shreveport due to the progressively increasing abundance of civilization they drove past, a vast improvement over the stifling blandness of Bon Temps.

Of course, the issue of Sookie still bugged him, enough for him to wonder if perhaps they should relocate for the remainder of their vacation as a precaution.  But Johnny decided that he would worry about that tomorrow.  As for tonight, he merely wanted to do a little dancing, drink a little blood, and enjoy a little Cherry.

Besides, even if his suspicions were correct, he _highly_ doubted that some Bon Temps waitress had the kind of pull that would reach all the way to the Shreveport vampire population in the span of a few hours.  That was, unless she just so happened to be boning a vampire of considerable importance in the area. 

Really now, what were the odds of that?

*****

Fangtasia’s owner, Eric Northman, was an incorrigible shit.  

However, he was also the sheriff of Area Five, a position that made him a prime target for the True Death.

Bill never had any reason to doubt Sookie’s amazing talent, not after having witnessed it firsthand on numerous occasions.  Therefore, when he saw the two vampires walk into Fangtasia, he knew that he had no choice but to act.  Even if they weren’t after Eric specifically, Bill was not about to allow harm to come to _any_ of his own by a self-loathing Judas.  And while he frequently disagreed with Eric’s  methods, he could not deny that they yielded results.

Using the back entrance, he entered the club and made his way to Eric’s private office. 

“And here I thought you were a true Southern gentleman,” Eric said, raising a brow as Bill walked through the door.  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your unannounced presence?”

“There’s no time for this, Eric.  Not tonight.”

Seeing that Bill was not interested in a pissing contest, Eric’s tone grew serious.  “What is it?”

“A hunter is here,” Bill said, closing the door behind him. “A vampire hunter.”

“Well of course it would be a vampire hunter--”

“No, you’re not listening.  A _vampire_ hunter.”

Realization slowly dawned on Eric’s face.  He snatched up his phone and quickly dialed a number.

“Find Pam.  Tell her to get in here _now_.”

When he was finished, he stood up and rounded the desk.  Although Bill would never say so aloud, he once again found himself somewhat taken aback by the tall blond's Viking formidability.     

“Alright then.”  Eric folded his arms and stared down at Bill.  “Tell me everything.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh, Cherry.  Just look at this place!”

Charley did look.  In _horror_. 

Never in all of his years had he seen such a massive display of debauchery in one room.  Over on the dance floor, dozens of scantily-clad bodies swayed and gyrated to the strange and pounding beat of a song that Charley had never heard and did not particularly like.  If not for the fact that they were clothed, he would have sworn that some of them were doing far more than simply dancing.  Vampires and humans were scattered in pairs along random secluded areas throughout the room--as secluded as a place like that would allow.  Some of them were only talking, but many of them were doing _much_ more than that.  His guard immediately went up when he spotted a male vampire pinning a human woman against a wall and biting into her neck, but when the woman’s arms and legs wrapped around him, Charley realized with a blush that her cry was not one of fear.  Not by a long shot. 

“Good Lord,” he muttered.

“I know,” Johnny said, beaming.  “Isn’t it wonderful?”

Charley opened his mouth to offer a different opinion on what he was witnessing, but when he saw the expression of sheer happiness on Johnny’s face, he decided against it.  It was actually rather adorable, sickeningly so, and Charley did not wish to ruin his mood by complaining. 

“It’s… something,” he replied.  That was the best that he could do.

Johnny smiled at Charley.  As opposed to his usual smug and cocky smile, it was the real thing, warm and sweet and lovely.  “Thank you, Cherry.”

“For what?”

“Bringing me here.  I know you didn’t want to come.”

Charley quickly averted his gaze to the floor.  When Johnny looked at him like that, dark eyes peering right to the heart of him, it was like staring into the sun; if he did it for too long, he felt as if he might burst into flames. 

“I _had_ to,” he began, memorizing their shoes.  “I shudder to think about what you would get into if I wasn’t around to keep an eye on you.”

He saw Johnny’s feet moved closer to his. 

He saw Johnny’s ring-laden hand grab his own. 

He saw Johnny’s other hand cup his chin and tilt it upward.

He saw Johnny.  His maker.  His _God._

“Well then.” Johnny's voice was low and heart-wrenching in its rare sincerity.  “I’m very lucky to have you with me.”

He slowly trailed his thumb along Charley’s chin.  Charley found himself contemplating, as he always did during moments like this, how vastly different things might have been between them if only Johnny acted this way more often. Then again, he wasn’t quite sure if he could handle it.

“Come on,” Johnny said, pulling him by the hand and sparing him the agony of what would have likely been a most appallingly embarrassing response.  “Let’s go get a drink.”

*****

“Oh yeah, they look like a couple of regular troublemakers,” Pam said, her voice spilling with its usual scathing sarcasm.

“Just shut up and keep watching.”  Eric regarded the pair as they went to the bar, his sharp eyes trained especially on the blond, who was unlike any vampire that he had ever seen. “You’ve been with me long enough to know that would-be killers come in all sorts of disguises.”

Bill knew this as well.  Over the past two centuries, he had seen an astonishing number of things in that regard.  His own maker had taught him a valuable lesson in deception, one that had cost him his human life. 

However, seeing those two just now… it gave him pause in a way that he hadn’t expected.  He saw something in the brief exchange that had just taken place, an affection seldom seen between vampires save for the kind between maker and progeny.  Eric and Pam had it; they were assholes to the rest of the free world, vampires and humans alike, yet the bond between them was surprisingly touching.

A frown bloomed on Bill’s face as he watched the dark-haired vampire summon a bartender.  He still believed Sookie’s words to be right… so why did something suddenly feel wrong?

*****

Charley glanced cautiously at the beverages being consumed by the vampires around him. 

“Master…”

Before he could voice his concern, Johnny turned around and handed him a drink.  But then he saw that the vampire had _already_ addressed his concern, as his was noticeably lighter in color.

“Here you go, a _Bloodless_ Mary,” Johnny said.  “Did you really think that I wouldn’t know better?”

Charley smiled gratefully.  “I just wanted to make sure.”

They seated themselves at a table near the dance floor.  Charley was still somewhat put off by everything going on around them, but he supposed that he could bear it one night for Johnny’s sake. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.”

“Understand what?” Johnny asked, lighting a cigarette.

They watched a trio of young women walk past them, their limited clothing revealing an array of bite marks on their respective bodies. 

“Humans wanting to be bitten,” Charley said.  “Wanting to be turned because they think it’s cool or hip or whatever the word is these days.”

“You wanted to be turned,” Johnny pointed out.

Charley shook his head and studied his drink.  That he wasn’t looking directly at Johnny was the only reason he was able to say what he said next:

“No, I just… I just wanted to be with you.  If you had died, I would have followed you into death.  It just so happened that I followed you into eternal life instead.”

Silence fell between them.  When Charley finally risked a glance at Johnny, he found a cheesy, mile-wide grin waiting for him.

“Aw Cherry, you _do_ love me!”

“Keep your voice down,” Charley hissed.

He lowered his head in shame as Johnny began singing “Cherry loves me” to the rhythm of the song playing overhead.

But he never once denied it.

*****

“Sam, I need to talk to you.”

Sam looked up from his book-work, took a good long look at Sookie, and put down his pen. 

“Are you okay, Sookie?  Tara and Arlene both said that you’ve been acting strange since Charley and Johnny left.”

Sookie stepped into Sam’s office and shut the door.  “That’s kinda what I need to talk to you about.”

“Tara and Arlene?”

“Charley and Johnny.”

“What about them?” Sam asked. 

“Look,” she started, taking a seat in front of his desk.  “I don’t know how long those two are gonna be staying on your property, but… just… be careful.  I think they’re trouble.”

Sam took another good long look at Sookie, realized she was being serious, and laughed. “What the hell are you talking about?  They’re harmless.   Johnny’s a little perverted, maybe, but still.”

“I heard Charley.”

“What do you mean you heard him?”

 “I mean I _heard_ him.”

“Wait,” Sam said, his brow furrowing.  “I thought you couldn’t hear vampires.”

“I thought so, too,” Sookie replied with a shrug.  “But I did, just as clear as I can hear you talking now.  He was thinking about being bound to a church and having to kill other vampires.  I think he's some sort of... I don't know... vampire assassin or something.”

Sam sat back in his chair.  “That doesn’t make any sense.  From what I can tell, he’s just about one of the damn nicest guys I’ve ever met, and that’s saying a lot for a vampire--no offense to Bill.”  He shook his head.  “I just can’t believe that he has a violent bone in his body.”

“Well either way, Bill’s gonna find out.”

“… You told him?”

“Of course I did,” Sookie said.  “I can’t just not say anything, Sam.  What if he tries to hurt somebody while he’s here?” She stood up and walked to the door.  “I just wanted to warn you, okay?  Who knows, maybe he’s got it in for shifters, too.  Better to be safe than sorry.”

Sam stared into the empty space of the office after she left, his book-work forgotten.  He tried desperately to reconcile her words with the quiet and kind vampire he had met on a few occasions and found that he just couldn’t do it.  It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her--Sookie was never wrong about that sort of thing--but even so… something didn’t feel right. 

When they spoke earlier in the day, Charley had mentioned that he and Johnny were going to Fangtasia tonight.  If Sookie told Bill about her suspicions and Bill told others…

Sam bolted up from his desk and slipped out of the back door, away from prying eyes.  Shreveport was too far for his liking by car.  Luckily, he had other options.

He briefly wondered what he would do about his clothing dilemma once he got there, but his sense of urgency was such that it didn’t matter.  The important thing was that he got there.  Fast. 

After taking one last glance around to ensure that he was unseen, Sam quickly stripped down to nothing. 

Moments later, a large bald eagle took off into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Charley was presently engaged in the fight of his life. 

His adversary was a tough and merciless opponent, blindingly relentless in his objective to such a degree that Charley felt he would soon have no other alternative than to kill him.

“Come on, Cherry.  _Dance with meeeeeee_.”

Charley stared at the whining vampire with a look of utter disdain. 

“ _I don’t dance_ ,” he said for the fifth time, snatching his hand away from Johnny’s insistent tugging.  “I refuse to go out there and make a fool of myself, even for you.”

Johnny’s eyes widened at the revelation that there was at least one thing in the world that the hunter would not do for him.  After a moment, he leaned back in his seat.

“Okay,” he said softly, his expression mournful.

“Thank you.”  Charley took a sip of his Bloodless Mary, relieved that the war was finally over.

“It’s fine, Cherry,” Johnny added.

Charley’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he realized that he might have spoken too soon.

Johnny sighed deeply.  “I understand.” 

The cyborg had enough when Johnny’s bottom lip protruded ever so slightly. 

“Are you seriously going to sit there and pout?” he asked in disbelief.

“I’m not pouting,” Johnny replied, his voice full of supposed woe.

Charley pressed cool digits to his temple and shook his head.  “Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself.  It was a fitting reaction to Johnny’s childishness… as well as his own inevitable surrender. 

Without a word, he stood up and extended a hand to his maker.  When he could bear Johnny’s doubtful gaze no longer, he spoke up. 

“Before I change my mind.”

He had barely finished his sentence when Johnny took his hand and practically jumped out of the chair, his face all but glowing with happiness.  It was disgustingly endearing. 

Since he had taken the initiative, Charley went so far as to lead him to the dance floor, but when he found a spot of their very own--a reasonably safe distance from the two women who were eyeing Johnny a little too much for Charley’s liking--he paused amongst the sea of bodies, not precisely certain how to proceed in such a situation.  After all, the rituals to be found on the dance floor of a vampire club were a far cry from those of a church, where he was much more at home.  Fortunately, Johnny was willing to take over.

The music wasn’t exactly fast-paced, and therefore more manageable, but Charley was still at an overall loss.  At first, he was somewhat apprehensive, worried that the vampire would try to persuade him to do some sort of strange, full-bodied, slow motion seizure like the kind that appeared to be afflicting everyone around them.  But when Johnny wrapped his arms around Charley’s neck, Charley understood what the vampire had in mind.

He brought his hands to rest on Johnny’s hips and pulled him close.  Very close.  Close enough for a blush to rise in his face as the weight of Johnny’s body pressed against him.  He found it ironic that he was feeling somewhat bashful about the intimacy of his maker’s nearness considering the fact that he had eagerly buried his head between Johnny’s naked thighs while feeding from his femoral artery on more than one occasion and without a second thought. 

Sensing his dilemma, Johnny threaded his fingers through Charley’s hair, gently smoothing and stroking it. “There you go,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring through the din.  “Now, just… move with me.”

Charley did, and after a few initial missteps--right on top of Johnny’s foot--he was eventually able to settle into something that resembled a rhythm.  For the most part. 

“See, Cherry?  It’s not so bad, is it?”

Johnny smiled up at Charley, and Charley felt something constrict in his chest. 

“I don’t see the point in any of it.  I’m only doing this to appease you.”  He hoped that he sounded convincing, but one look at Johnny’s amused face proved otherwise.

“Well I greatly appreciate the sacrifice,” he murmured, nuzzling into the crook of Charley’s neck.

Charley shuddered involuntarily when he felt the warmth of Johnny’s breath dance across his skin and he closed his eyes against the enormity of the sensation, his fingers digging deeply into Johnny’s sides. 

“Cherry?  Are you okay?” Johnny asked, the humor in his voice apparent.

“I-I’m fine.” Charley offered up a silent prayer to the Lord, asking to be forgiven for the lie.  “I’m just… a little hungry,” he added. 

That part, at least, wasn’t a complete fabrication.  Between barely managing a few unsatisfying sips of Tru Blood and the rampant smell of human blood all around him, Charley really _was_ in a state of craving.

Halting their dance, Johnny pulled back and with one hand he swept a mess of dark, wavy hair away from his shoulder.  “So what are you waiting for?” 

Charley’s teeth clenched at the sight of Johnny's neck, pale and smooth and wickedly inviting, and it was only by a miracle that he managed not to take the vampire and drain him right there.  But as much as he wanted to, and God did he ever, he refused to reduce himself to the likes of those around him. 

“No,” he mumbled thickly.  “Not here.  Not like this.”

Johnny regarded him for a moment before nodding in understanding.  “If that's what you want,” he said.  “But I can't just let you suffer, Cherry.  I have to do _something_.”

“… Something like what?”

Johnny parted his lips, which was in and of itself distracting enough for reasons that Charley did not care to contemplate.  He then ran his forked tongue along the sharp point of an elongated cuspid until it punctured the tender pink flesh and a pool of blood began to form.

Suddenly, Charley knew what he meant to do.  

“Master, wait--” 

Johnny did no such thing.

The hunter gasped sharply when Johnny yanked him forward, his eyes widening behind his glasses.  Their lips collided, and the vampire’s tongue pushed its way into his mouth, seeking and finding Charley's tongue, twirling around it, rubbing and sliding teasingly alongside it.  The feel of Johnny  _in his mouth,_ it was unlike anything that he had ever experienced and beyond anything he could have ever dared to imagine.  But it was what rubbed and slid against him further south that broke him completely, shattered the walls around his heart and his longing, and all at once a different kind of hunger erupted inside of Charley, one that was years upon years in the making, never acknowledged but always just under the surface of his being.  Always there.  Always waiting.

And just as quickly as it began, the kiss was over.  Johnny leaned back in Charley’s arms and watched him carefully, his eyes contemplative, his lips wet, and his face flushed.  Charley swallowed the unique mixture of the vampire’s blood and saliva and gaped at him, his mind a blur and his body on fire, raging with all sorts of desire.  They neither acknowledged nor cared about their surroundings; as far as they were concerned, they were the only ones in the room, the only ones who existed.

“What happens next is up to you,” Johnny said quietly. 

The decision, Charley discovered, was actually rather simple.

“Take me somewhere.”

Johnny nodded solemnly.

“Okay.”

*****

Johnny was pleasantly surprised to find the bathroom for humans was unoccupied.  But then again, he also knew there was no guarantee that it would remain that way for long.  He had to act fast, before anyone came along and also, to be honest, before Charley changed his mind.

He directed him to the stall along the far wall.  Johnny soon realized that he needn’t have worried about any indecision on the cyborg’s part; he had barely entered and closed the door behind him when Charley pounced, shoving him face-first into the stall wall, snatching him back by the hair, and biting deep into his neck from behind.

_“Ahhh!”_

Johnny was genuinely stunned by the suddenness and viciousness of Charley’s actions. 

He was also genuinely turned on. 

“Fuck, Cherry,” he panted, pushing back against Charley’s chest, his eyelids fluttering closed as the blood flowed out of him. 

Soon after, Johnny found himself being spun around.  Artificial fingers nervously unbuttoned his shirt, spreading it open and revealing his perfect torso, and he stood patiently as those same digits paused at his belt buckle as if awaiting permission to proceed. 

“Master.” Charley's voice was low, raw, urgent.  “I… I want to--”

The stall door was suddenly torn violently from its hinges, jolting them both back to reality.  A vampire appeared in the doorway, flanked by two armed guards in plain clothing.  Charley instinctively moved to strike--

_“Cherry, stop!”_

Thankfully he _did_ stop, and an infinitely relieved Johnny knew that it was only because of his command and not Charley’s regard for his own life.  Stupid, stupid boy. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the vampire said, patting the barrel of one of the guns aimed directly at Charley’s chest. “You don’t appear to be a normal vampire, but I’m willing to bet that a wooden bullet to the heart would kill you just the same.”

Consumed by a wave of fierce protectiveness, Johnny forced his way between Charley and the stranger.  He was livid beyond words and he wanted to lash out, maim, and destroy, but until he knew what he was up against, there was nothing else that he could do without risk to them both.

Once he sorted it all out, however, there would be payback.  And plenty of it.

_No one_ threatened his Cherry and got away with it. 

“What the hell is going on?” he asked. 

The vampire smiled.  In a glance, Johnny saw that he was tall, blond, attractive, and old. 

Not to mention  _powerful._

“I’m sorry to interrupt you boys during such a tender moment,” he said, folding his arms and leaning against the doorway.  “My name is Eric Northman, this is my club… and we need to talk.”


	8. Chapter 8

As best as Charley could tell, he was in some sort of dungeon-type holding area.  
  
He found it odd that there would be such a place beneath a club. But seeing as how he was currently a prisoner in said place, he supposed that anything was possible.  
  
It was dim and damp and smelled strongly of death and rot, both human and vampire alike. However, while this did not bode well for his present situation, Charley had a feeling that if his captors truly intended to kill him, they weren’t going to do so just yet. He could tell by the way that they had looked at him; the woman in particular had gawked at him in awe from the moment she laid eyes on him. Well, that and something else Charley dared not contemplate.  
  
And so this meant that he had time. Time to figure out exactly why they had detained him. Time to think of a plan of escape. And most importantly, time to figure out if Johnny was alright. Ultimately, that was all that really mattered. Charley was perfectly willing to endure any manner of torture, should it come to that, as long as his master was spared.  
  
After Eric and his female associate--his progeny, Charley guessed--worked out that silver did not affect him as it did other vampires, they settled for chaining him to the wall where he now stood, watching them watch him from across the room. He could sense their confusion and he understood it rather well. Charley knew his differences more than anyone, after all; he was an enigma to his kind, almost a kind unto himself, to be honest. Was that why this was happening? Or was it something else?  
  
What in God’s name was going on?  
  
*****  
  
“What the fuck is going on?”  
  
Johnny glared up at the vampire leaning against the desk in front of him, his rage being kept in check by the absolute barest of margins. That he did not know Charley’s whereabouts was the only reason that he hadn’t gone on a murderous rampage, killing everyone in sight first then asking questions later. And the fact that he wasn’t being restrained in any way was all the proof he needed to know that _he_ was not the reason behind their unceremonious interruption in the bathroom, just when things had started getting good. He knew that the cyborg was more than capable and equipped to take care of himself, even in the most seemingly dire of situations. But even so, if anyone dared to lay a finger on him to hurt him...  
  
Johnny’s host cleared his throat. And was it just Johnny’s overactive imagination or did he look uncomfortable... and almost sympathetic?  
  
“We received information leading us to suspect that your... mate... might be a threat,” he explained. “This is simply a precaution until we can determine whether or not he poses a risk to us.”  
  
His voice was gentle. Kind, even. With a smooth drawl that one would probably consider to be charming any other given day. Not that it prevented Johnny from wanting to claw out his eyes.  
  
“He will remain here tonight for questioning,” the vampire continued. “If it is concluded that he has no ill intent towards anyone, he will be released to you tomorrow evening.”  
  
“Look, whoever you are--”  
  
“My name is Bill. Bill Compton.”  
  
“--if you think for one second that I am just going to walk out of here and leave him on his own, then you are sadly mistaken.”  
  
“And you, sir, are sadly mistaken if you think that you have any choice in the matter,” Bill shot back. “If you adhere to any form of hierarchy wherever you’re from, then surely you understand that what you desire is of no consequence here.”  
  
The vampires stubbornly regarded each other for a full minute. Eventually, Bill sighed in resignation.  
  
“Listen,” he began. “For what little it may be worth to you... after seeing the two of you together... I find it hard to believe that the accusation has any merit whatsoever.”  
  
“You mean he doesn’t strike you as some rampant vampire killer?” Johnny asked.  
  
“No. No, he doesn’t. But our source is an accurate one, one that has never been wrong.”  
  
Johnny laughed bitterly and shook his head. “Are you even aware of the nature of our kind? Perhaps not here, where you have your law and your order and your disgusting Tru Blood to give yourselves the illusion of normalcy. But can you begin to imagine what vampires are like _out there_? They are bloodthirsty, cruel, and relentless. They don’t want to coexist with humans. They want dominion. And so he does what he does out of necessity. He does what he does because if he didn’t, then hundreds, maybe even _thousands_ of people would be enslaved or killed. But I guess Sookie wasn’t able to read that part.” He leaned forward in his chair and fixed his dark gaze on Bill. “And I guess it didn’t occur to _you_ to ask before you assumed the worst.”  
  
Bill’s eyes widened in shock but he did not inquire further about Johnny’s revelation. Instead, he ran a hand over his face and sighed again. “No, it did not,” he admitted. “Contrary to the ignorance you believe afflicts us here, this area is full of constant danger. The vampire who owns this club, the one talking to your friend right now, is the sheriff of this region. And while he is a...” A look of distaste passed over Bill’s face before he resumed speaking. “While we may not always see eye-to-eye, nevertheless I have a duty to warn him of _any_ potential threats he may encounter.”  
  
If Johnny were thinking objectively, he might have understood and maybe even commiserated with what Bill was saying. But because he wasn’t thinking objectively, because they had gone so far as to tamper with the one thing he held most dear, none of it made a difference. He wanted to kill them all.  
  
“I will voice my opinion to Eric,” Bill continued. “As long as your companion does not attempt anything rash, no harm will come to him. I give you my word.”  
  
Johnny stared at Bill for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm.  
  
“That boy... You have no idea what he has suffered and sacrificed for more than a hundred years, mutilating his body  _and_ his soul for my sake. You have no idea how sweet and kind and good he is, more so than any human or vampire I have ever known. And you have no idea the danger you’ve undertaken in doing this. Not from him, but from _me._ Because for as much as you may love your precious little telepath, it doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what I feel for Chris. And if anything happens to him, anything at all, I give you _my_ word that I will rip this quaint little backwoods parish of yours apart, starting with Sookie.”  
  
“Now wait just a minute--”  
  
“I’ll see to it that she dies cursing your name, Bill. And I’ll make sure that you can hear her.”  
  
While Johnny was prepared to fight, and was even anticipating the chance to do so, Bill merely tensed at the threat. That was not to say that he took it lightly. Quite the contrary, Johnny could tell that the vampire had no doubt whatsoever about his sincerity. Just how much power did this Eric have over Bill that he would stand there and allow someone to threaten his girlfriend?  
  
And Johnny was supposed to take him at his word? No fucking way.  
  
Having said his fill, he stood slowly. While Bill did not recoil outright, he was noticeably on guard.  
  
“Now if you would be so kind as to show me to the door.”  
  
*****  
  
Eric ran an inquisitive finger along the digits of Charley’s right hand, his fascination apparent.  
  
“What _are_ you?”  
  
Charley had heard the question so often over the years that it no longer fazed him. If he lived through this mess, he was certain that he would hear it again. But while he usually tried to field the query in the best way possible, silence seemed a better option at the moment. He wanted to know where Johnny was, he _ached_ to know, but he didn't want to display anything that could be perceived as weakness.  
  
And it went without saying that Johnny Rayflo was his biggest weakness ever.  
  
“Okay,” Eric said. “I understand your hesitation and you have every right not to respond.” The blond vampire, who was tall enough to look down on Charley, favored the cyborg with a smile that came nowhere close to touching his eyes. “Fortunately, we have the rest of the night to change your mind.”  
  
*****  
  
After he was escorted off the premises, Johnny stared at the exterior of Fangtasia, plotting his next possible course of action. He had to be fast and--equally important--rational, which eliminated most of the ideas that ran through his mind.  
  
What he did know, the one thing of which he was certain, was that there was no way he was waiting until tomorrow evening to return. Bill may have had all the best intentions in the world, and Johnny actually believed that he did, but Bill wasn’t running the show so ultimately, his word meant shit. He wanted to know what was happening to Charley, he _longed_ to know, but he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his well-being.  
  
Suddenly, a new plan began to form, one that just might work. But he couldn’t pull it off alone.  
  
As Johnny reached into his pocket to grab his cell phone, wondering briefly if she would even bother answering, he caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and spotted a bald eagle standing on the ground a few feet away from him and watching him with a curiousness that was far from normal. Well, about as normal as that of any bird of prey found frequenting a vampire nightclub.  
  
“Interesting...”  
  
Johnny approached the large bird and crouched down before it.  
  
“Hello there, Sam.”  
  



	9. Chapter 9

“I must tell you, Sam, that I am finding your penis to be quite the distraction.”

Upon noticing the way that Johnny’s dark eyes were trained inquisitively on his crotch, Sam turned away with a grunt of frustration. 

“Um… that's not much better.”

“Look, man, it’s either my ass or my dick.”  Sam shot him a glare over his shoulder.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t exactly work out how to fly with a change of clothes, okay?  I guess I was more worried about getting over here to warn you.”

Johnny nodded and looked Sam in the eyes.  Finally.

“I know, and I appreciate that,” he said, smiling with genuine gratitude.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

They were standing in an alleyway between a pair of empty buildings about a quarter of a mile from Fangtasia, secluded from the hustle and bustle of men and women moving about the sidewalk by the darkness as well as a dumpster that would partially shield them from view should anyone happen to glance in their direction… assuming that the illumination from Sam’s inordinately pale ass did not give them away. 

Johnny had quickly filled him in on the particulars of Charley’s detainment and he surprised himself at how calm he remained while doing so.  Then again, he knew he had to be smart about this.  One wrong move and the cyborg could very well be killed, and while Johnny absolutely did not want to ponder long on what might be happening to Charley right now as they stood there doing nothing, he _had_ to keep his focus for later if he was to have any chance of saving him.  Because if anything happened to his Cherry… his _Chris_ … 

He pushed away the thought.  Unfortunately, the pain that it yielded refused to leave so easily.

“Okay, what now?” Sam asked.    

Johnny looked at his watch and saw that the time was fast edging up on midnight.  Fangtasia closed at six in the morning, and give or take another hour after that, sunrise would come.  Not as much time as he would have liked, but if everything worked according to his plan, it would do.

“Would it be alright with you if we go to your place?  I don’t want to take any chances now that they know Cherry and I are staying at your lake house.”

“Sure.  But how are we going to do this?  You said that Charley had the car keys, right? Unless…” Sam turned around to face him, taking care to conceal his more sensitive areas from prying eyes.  “I don’t suppose you can fly, can you?”

Johnny smiled.

*****

“By the way, did I mention that I’ll kick your ass if you hit on Cherry?”

“What?”

“Nothing.  Let’s go.”

*****

Lafayette stepped out of the back door of Merlotte’s with a bag of trash and a sigh, thankful that he did not have to see that place again until Monday.  As he reached the dumpster, he heard the peculiar sound of flapping.  A _lot_ of flapping.  The cook looked upward into the night, expecting to see a flock of birds silhouetted against the sky--

“What the fuck?”

\--but was instead treated to the sight of bats, dozens upon dozens of them, flying low overhead.

And followed closely by a large bald eagle.

“What _the fuck_?”

Lafayette shook his head and ran a hand over his eyes.  There was no way that he saw what he thought he just saw.  He knew that there was some fucked up shit in Bon Temps, but even _that_ was a little too weird for these parts.  Surely he was just losing it after spending the better part of his afternoon and evening on his feet, dead tired and breathing in fryer grease and redneck funk.

“Let me get my ass up out of here,” he muttered to himself, tossing the trash into the dumpster and heading for his car.  All he wanted right now was a stiff drink and a stiff cock, both of them in his mouth, and he could not move fast enough to achieve that objective.

*****

“I take it that these are for decoration,” Eric mused as he ran a finger along the frame of Charley’s glasses, a move that was surprisingly and--at least for Charley--awkwardly intimate.  “I like them.  They suit you.”

He took a step back, his eyes brazenly trailing the full length of the hunter’s shackled body.  “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding anything but.  “I’m forgetting my manners.  Seeing as how I so rudely interrupted your feeding… among other things… the least I can do is make it up to you.  Come over here, Ginger.”

A blond, scantily-clad woman tentatively approached them.  Charley could sense her fear, yet, oddly enough, she did not appear to be there against her will. 

The vampire never took his eyes off Charley.  “Would you be so kind as to offer our guest a drink?”

The woman moved in front of Charley and turned her head to the side, presenting her neck.  Charley could smell the blood coursing through her veins all too well and he clenched his teeth, biting back his primitive instinct to rend that delicate flesh before him and sate his thirst in a way that all the vampire blood in the world, even his master’s, could not achieve. 

When it became apparent that he would not partake, no matter how strong the urge, Eric seized Ginger by the back of her head and bit viciously into her neck, causing her to cry out in agony.  He drank from her until her knees began to buckle, all the while watching Charley’s lowered head with sadistic glee.  After consuming his fill, he pushed the waitress aside.

“Get back to work,” he ordered callously, wiping a smear of blood from his lips with the back of his hand. 

As Ginger stumbled out of the room, Charley swallowed hard.  The smell of her blood was still fresh in his nose, in the air, everywhere. 

_Our Father, who art in Heaven…_

Charley mentally recited the Lord’s Prayer, feeling some semblance of his resolve returning with each line.  He would not be tempted.  He would not be swayed.  After all, one did not endure living with Johnny Rayflo without possessing willpower.  This was nothing compared to his daily advances.  Nothing at all. 

So far.

“What do you make of this, Pam?”

Eric’s progeny joined him.  “The bartender said that he wouldn’t take blood in his drink,” she informed him.

“So you’ll drink from a vampire before you’ll drink from a human.”  The tall blond paused for a moment, taking in this bit of news.  “You must really hate what you are,” he concluded.

“… Yes.”

Eric and Pam both gaped at Charley, though the cyborg was uncertain if they were stunned by his admission or by the fact that he had finally spoken.

Before he could find out, another vampire entered the room, the same one who had taken Johnny away somewhere.  Charley felt a stab of fear in his chest.  If Johnny wasn’t with him then did that mean that he had been released?  Or did it mean--

“Eric.  I need to talk to you.”

“I’m in the middle of something, Bill,” Eric replied, not bothering to hide his agitation over the interruption. 

“It is rather urgent,” Bill insisted, taking no precaution to hide his own irritation.  Then, though it clearly disgusted him to do so, he added, “Please.”

Charley watched the tense exchange, his calm exterior belying his sudden interest.  These two clearly did not care for one another, and he wondered if there was a way that could be used to his advantage. 

More importantly, was Johnny alright?  Did this urgent matter have to do with him?  While Charley did not feel the same maliciousness exuding from this Bill as he did from Eric, in _spades_ , he did not want to assume anything. 

Eric sighed.  “This better be important.”

He turned and walked out of the room, followed closely by Pam.  Bill glanced at Charley and offered him a barely discernible nod before exiting, and in that nod, Charley felt a surge of calm overcome him, and he no longer cared what happened to him. 

Because in that nod, he knew what he needed to know.

Johnny was safe.

*****

Sam, now thankfully dressed, gawked as Johnny shoved his cell phone back into his pocket. 

“Man, I don’t think I have ever heard that much profanity in one conversation my entire life,” he said.  “This woman… she’s your kin?”

Johnny scowled as he lit a cigarette.  “It’s complicated.”

There was a knock at the door, preventing Sam from theorizing exactly what sort of familial complication Johnny had that led to the scathing exchange he overheard.   The shapeshifter opened it and stared at the muscle-bound man in his doorway, and while his guard immediately went up towards the werewolf, as it was his own experience that none of their kind was to be trusted, if Johnny was willing to make an exception, then so would he.  For now.

“Sam Merlotte?”

“Yeah.”

“Alcide Herveaux.”

“Come on in.”  Sam stepped aside, straightening his back as Alcide entered his home, an act which sadly did nothing to bring him any closer to the were’s imposing height.

“Thanks for coming, Alcide,” Johnny said, shaking his hand.

And so the vampire, the shapeshifter, and the werewolf took a seat in the living room.  Had Johnny been in his usual playful mood, he would have noted that it sounded like the beginning of a very bad joke.

“So what’s the plan?” Alcide asked.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.  “I’m all for helping Charley but what? Are we just gonna barge right in there and take him back?”

Johnny took a long drag on his cigarette and gazed at the others through a haze of smoke.

“As a matter of fact, that is _exactly_ what we’re going to do.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

After sending Pam away to tend to club matters, Eric directed Bill into his office and took a seat.

“Well Bill, here we are.  Now what the fuck is the emergency?”

Bill struggled to maintain a peaceful visage as he regarded Eric, opting to stand at the vampire’s desk rather than sit.  Not that the prick had even offered as much, a move which Bill found to be classless and most un-Southern. 

Vikings.  Contemptible brutes.  Present company _not_ excluded in the least. 

“I spoke with Johnny Rayflo,” he began.  “And while he did confirm that there is some manner of truth to Sookie’s words due to circumstances where they reside, I have concluded that our guest is of no threat to you whatsoever.”

“Oh, that.”  Eric leaned back in his chair.  “I’m well aware of that, Bill.  Took me all of five minutes to figure it out.  But I suppose that I should thank you anyway for wasting my time by pointing out the glaringly obvious.”

“You know?  Then why are you keeping him?”

Eric shook his head as if taxed by the burden of having to deal with such a simpleton. 

“His lack of hostility towards me does not negate the fact that he has engaged in acts of violence against other vampires.  _Your_ words, by the way, in case you don’t recall,” Eric pointed out.  “Regardless of whether or not those acts took place in this Area, he has committed crimes against his own kind.  _Murdered_ them.  That sort of thing cannot be overlooked.”

While Bill was not entirely opposed to Eric’s logic, as he abhorred vampire-on-vampire crime more than almost anyone, he was still not entirely convinced about the sheriff’s sincerity.  Especially since Eric, historically speaking, was about as sincere as the devil.  “What will you do with him?” he asked. 

“Not that it is any of your concern,” Eric started, raising a brow at Bill’s boldness.  “But I will do nothing except keep him company for the night.  As for his fate come sundown tomorrow, that is a question best left for the Authority.”

Bill’s eyes grew large and that nagging feeling of doubt began to expand.  Considerably.  “You contacted the Authority?”

“Not yet.  First I want to get to know this Charles Chrishunds.”  Eric smiled.  “ _Personally_.”

“Johnny Rayflo believes that nothing will happen to his progeny as long as he is not deemed a threat.  I gave him my word.”

“I didn’t.”

“He threatened revenge, Eric.  He threatened _Sookie_.”

“That is not my problem,” Eric replied with a shrug.  “And what is with this sudden attack of conscience?  I wouldn't have even had to deal with any of this if not for the fact that _you_ felt the need to inform me about him.  You can’t just take it all back now.  It doesn’t work that way.  This vampire is unlike any we have ever encountered.  His physical modifications alone are enough to justify involving the Authority, not to mention the fact that Sookie was able to read his thoughts.”

He leaned forward and folded his hands on top of the desk, his gaze cold and calculating.

“Speaking of Sookie, you do realize that they will want to know exactly how this vampire came to our attention, don’t you?  Perhaps the powers that be will want to reevaluate your little girlfriend’s talents?  Determine if this is a one-time thing or if she has been lying about her abilities all along.” 

 “She has nothing to do with this,” Bill whispered, his voice low and full of unmistakable warning.

“Nor do you,” Eric shot back.  “Now go home.”

“But--”

“ _Go home_ , Bill,” Eric said again.  “Your services are no longer required tonight and quite frankly, I’m tired of looking at you.”

Bill clenched his teeth.  He wanted nothing more than to leap across that desk and tear that smug, shit-eating smirk off Eric’s face, consequences be damned.  But doing so, satisfying as it might be, would only serve to get him killed.  And so instead, he offered a slight nod, displaying what little respect he could muster, and then walked calmly out of the office.

This was a mistake.   Bill knew that now, right down to his core, and uneasiness settled over him like a shroud.  If Eric did mean to bring the Authority into this, and he had no reason to believe otherwise, then there was no telling what they would do to the vampire chained in the basement.  If they didn’t destroy him outright, then they would wait until they first had a chance to dissect and dismantle him, stripping away layer after layer in an effort to ascertain the nature and origin of his physical makeup which, Bill had to admit, was absolutely fascinating. 

He had to rectify the situation.  Yes, for his conscience, which already bore two centuries worth of regret for a wide variety of reasons.  But more importantly for Sookie.  Johnny’s promise to lay ruin was still fresh in his mind and Bill did not doubt his sincerity.  Therefore he would do whatever it took to protect her.

Even if it meant committing treason. 

*****

Charley could not count the number of times that he had wished for a reprieve from his master’s rambling. 

The silence, as it turned out, was far worse.

He tilted his head and listened for any remote hint of noise.  The repetitive thump of the club’s music was so faint that he might have thought it his imagination if not for knowing his location.  Aside from that, there was nothing.  Nothing at all.

Perhaps this was a punishment of sorts. Perhaps in His cruel and infinite wisdom, God was sparing him from the irrevocable spiritual damage he meant to inflict upon himself had he and Johnny not been interrupted in the bathroom.  At the rate things had progressed up until Eric’s arrival, Charley, in that moment of raw longing, had every intention of doing something… extremely untoward.  In his mind’s eye, he saw his fingers working their way down Johnny’s chest, and he remembered wishing that he’d had his real hands to touch him.  He had seen the vampire’s eagerness straining against the front of his pants, and oh how Charley had wanted to rub his own all over him, right up against the wall of the stall until--

He pushed the thought away with a firm shake of the head.  There was absolutely nothing to be gained by such thinking, no point in ruminating on a hunger of a different kind. 

He sighed into the dimness of the room, contemplating his possible demise. It should have frightened him, the idea of ceasing to exist. 

So why did the memory of a blood-tinged kiss frighten him even more? 

*****

Later, while Eric was getting to know Charley on a more _personal_ level, Johnny, Alcide, and Sam finalized their game plan.  It was pure insanity, what Johnny was proposing.

Which was why it just might work.

“Okay,” Alcide said, cradling a bottle of beer in his large hands.  “So now what?”

“Now we wait,” Johnny replied.

“For what?” Sam asked.

Right on cue, there was a loud and persistent knocking on the door.  A wave of disgust passed over Johnny’s face as he extinguished his cigarette. 

“For _that_.”

Sam tentatively approached the door.  He had no sooner turned the knob before it flew open, almost hitting him in the process.

Rayfell strolled into the house, her dark eyes lingering appreciatively on Alcide before narrowing as they met Johnny’s glare.

“Alright, asshole,” she said.  “What the fuck did that virgin of yours get himself into now?”


	11. Chapter 11

_Thou shalt have no other gods before me._

Charley knew that he had skirted that particular commandment his entire life.  While there was his God, the Father, there was also his “father,” the god.  Johnny Rayflo had been both of those things for him, after all, for as long as he could remember. 

So which one would save him now?               

He cringed as cold digits trailed down his bare chest, the remnants of his shirt now hanging from his shoulders in tatters.  Eric had taken his sweet time just getting to that point, and for Charley, who had already suffered so much during his existence, the anticipation of what else Eric might do was a special sort of torture in and of itself.    

“It’s nice to see that your modifications are minimal,” Eric said as he ran his fingers along Charley’s arm.  They lingered at the junction of flesh and metal before moving back to his chest, where he teasingly traced each nipple with a sickening fascination.  “It would be a shame to let this body go to waste.  Or is there something else going on underneath all of this gloriously chiseled muscle that I need to know about?”

Charley remained silent, though it took a bit of effort for him to do so.  While he wanted nothing more than for Eric to stop touching him, he also did not want to divulge more about himself than he needed to, especially since he had no idea what was to be done with such information.

But when Eric produced a very long, very _sharp-_ looking knife, he realized with dawning horror that the vampire fully intended to find out, one way or another…

*****

As a shape-shifter, Sam thought that he had seen almost everything life had to offer.  When one could view the world through the eyes of just about any creature imaginable, genuine surprises were rare. Until now.

He sat in a chair and watched, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, as a werewolf was sandwiched between two bickering vampires on the sofa, each of them pulling on one large arm in an impromptu game of tug-of-war.  It was… well, he didn’t quite have the words to describe it. He wasn’t sure if there were even any words that could. 

“I didn’t call you here to hit on people!” Johnny screamed, conveniently neglecting to acknowledge his own behavior towards Alcide earlier. 

“You’re just jealous because he doesn’t want your filthy ass!” Rayfell shot back.

“Slut!”

“Fag!”

“Bitch!”

“Asshole!”

“Um, guys?” Sam piped in.

Johnny and Rayfell turned and glared at him. “ _What?!_ ” they yelled.

“This probably isn’t the best way to spend our time,” he said as he fidgeted nervously in his seat under the murderous gazes of two ornery vampires.  “Maybe we should focus on finalizing our plan?”

Rayfell sniffed her disapproval and turned back to Alcide, pressing her generous cleavage against him. 

“Maybe you should just shut the fuck up, Shifter,” she said.

“Look, this is _my_ house and… wait a minute.”  Sam realized something and shook his head in confusion.  “How were you even able to walk in here the way you did?” he asked.  “I didn’t invite you inside.”

Johnny gave his new friend an apologetic smile.  “Sorry, Sam.  When you invited me in, you more or less invited her by extension.  I don’t like it, but that’s the way it is.” 

“Yeah, so deal with it,” Rayfell added.

“Don’t talk to Sam like that.”  Johnny reached behind Alcide’s back and swatted at her.  “And get your skanky tits off of Alcide!”

“Make me!” Rayfell reached in front of Alcide and swatted back. 

They proceeded to slap and punch at each other over and around an increasingly embarrassed and frustrated Alcide.  When words alone could not deter the duo and the werewolf could take no more, he let out a low, rumbling growl that froze everyone in their spot.

The room fell quiet.  Sam leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the silence--

“Oooooooh,” Rayfell purred, running her fingers through Alcide’s dark hair.  “That was hot.”

“Yeah it was,” Johnny agreed, running _his_ fingers along the collar of Alcide’s shirt.  “Do it again!”

Sam slapped a hand to his face.

Only _hours_ to go.

*****

“You’re slower to heal than a normal vampire,” Eric concluded while wiping off the knife’s bloody blade.  “Not considerably, though.  The question is whether that is a result of this…” He tapped Charley’s hand with the now clean blade.  “Or because you refuse to drink human blood.”

He paused and thoughtfully regarded the cyborg, almost kindly, as if he did not just spend the last two hours slowly carving him open just to see what would happen.  “Would you like some of mine?” he offered.  “You must be starving.”

Charley was, in fact, ravenous by that point.  But the thought of feeding from anyone other than his master revolted him to no end, and he closed his eyes and turned his head. That was all the answer that Eric needed.

“Fair enough,” he said with a shrug.  “You’ll only drink from your maker.  Maybe I should have detained him after all.”

It was the worst thing that he could have possibly said.  Charley opened his eyes and glared at Eric, the pain from his mending wounds suddenly becoming most insignificant.

“Leave him out of this.”

Eric’s smile was cold and triumphant.  “Ah, so _that’s_ what it takes to get you to talk.”

He reached out and touched one of the nastier gashes on Charley’s chest that had yet to heal.  “You’re extremely devoted to him,” he observed.  “Believe it or not, Charles, I understand that very well.  I would have done anything in the world for my maker.” 

His features softened.  If Charley hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, he would have never thought it possible for the vampire to have such an expression of warmth.

“Anything,” Eric repeated quietly, speaking more to himself than to Charley. 

He lowered his hand, and the hint of emotion he let slip was gone in an instant.  “I’ll send Ginger down with some Tru Blood,” he said.  “I know it tastes like shit, but it’s better than nothing.”

Eric walked out of the room without another word, leaving Charley to stare after him and wonder what in the world just happened.

*****

Two hours before sunrise, Alcide locked himself in Sam’s bedroom for a quick power nap while Sam started making the phone calls necessary to implement their course of action.  After trying unsuccessfully to join Alcide and then cursing Sam for not giving her the spare key to the bedroom, Rayfell made her way out to the back porch where she found Johnny sitting on the steps, smoking and staring up at the night sky.  She opened her mouth to say something rude but upon further consideration, decided against it.  And so instead she took a seat beside him and helped herself to his cigarette. 

“How’s Cheryl?” he asked, lighting himself another one.

“She’s good.” Rayfell dragged deeply and exhaled. “I left without explaining anything to her so she probably thinks that I’m out hitting on anything that moves.”

“You _do_ hit on anything that moves.”

Rayfell smirked.  “Yeah, but my heart belongs only to her.”

“Ha! You’re in love with jailbait,” Johnny scoffed. 

“Shut up!” she demanded, kicking him in the shin for good measure.  “Besides, it’s no different for you.”

“What?  Cherry’s not jailbait,” Johnny pointed out.

“Smartass.  That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Johnny sighed.  “… Yeah.”

The vampires continued smoking and watching the night.  There was no _real_ need for them to talk; being what they were, they were more aware of each other’s thoughts and feelings than any other two beings of their kind.  So it was no shock at all to Rayfell when Johnny said what he said next.

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost him.”

Rayfell scooted close to her other half and wrapped an unexpectedly comforting arm around his shoulders. 

“Not gonna happen,” she promised him.  “Not on this day.”

Johnny nodded.  After awhile, he raised a brow and glanced at Rayfell, his expression doubting and suspicious. 

“Are we having a moment?” he asked.

“I believe so,” Rayfell replied. “Gross, huh?”

“Very.”

*****

Sam did not realize that he had dozed off until he was jolted awake by a knock at the door. He glanced at his watch and saw that only twenty minutes had passed since he hung up with Lafayette, who was not at all happy with being called at such an hour until Sam promised to throw a little extra into his next paycheck.

“That was quick,” he muttered, standing up with a stretch and a yawn.  Alcide had the right idea; a nap sounded pretty fucking delightful right about now. But first he needed to make sure that the cook had brought him everything he specified.

He walked over to the door and opened it.

“Hey man. I didn’t expect you to get here so-- _What the fuck are you doing here?_ ”

Although his first instinct was to shift and pounce, Sam knew that he was no match for his unexpected guest.  Losing Sookie’s affection to this bastard was bad enough. Damned if Sam was about to lose anything else, not if he could help it.

“Hello, Sam,” Bill said with clearly forced politeness.  “I was wondering if I might have a word with Johnny Rayflo, please.”


	12. Chapter 12

Originally posted to LiveJournal on 5/30/12.

 

_Breaking Cherry  
Chapter 12_

Pam knew that look on Eric’s face.  It was a look that she had only seen a handful of times over the past hundred years, one that was both eerie and beautiful in its rarity.

He was thinking of Godric again.

What she did not know was what could have possibly happened down in the dungeon to inspire such a shift in the demeanor of the Viking-turned-vampire, what that strange, altered vampire might have said or done to prompt it.  And as a progeny, it was not her place to question her maker.  In the end, all she could do was stand there and wait for the moment to pass, for the Eric Northman that she knew and loved to resurface in all of his cruel glory. 

“Have Ginger bring him some Tru Blood,” he said, absentmindedly tapping his long fingers against a stack of the night’s receipts. 

“Right away,” she replied.  “Anything else?”

Cold eyes met her inquisitive gaze. 

“If there was anything else, I would have said so.”

Pam smiled in spite of the subtle censure, relieved that this apparent attack of conscience had not marred his attitude too severely. 

“Of course,” she said as she quickly left the office, eager to do her master’s bidding.

*****

“Well, here I am,” Johnny said, lighting a cigarette and glaring at Bill through tendrils of smoke.  “Talk.”

They were standing on the front porch of Sam’s house, as the shifter had vehemently refused to grant Bill entrance into his home.  Bill shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the railing, exhibiting a relaxed posture that Johnny in no way deemed immediately threatening.  Even so, the vampire’s very presence alone was enough to keep him on guard.  Just in case.

“I appreciate you seeing me at this hour,” Bill said.  “I went to Sam’s lake house and saw that you weren’t there--”

“I wasn’t sure if the Vampire Gestapo were going to come calling,” Johnny cut in.  “Considering all of the ‘Southern hospitality’ I’ve seen so far tonight, holing up here seemed like the wiser option.”

Bill sighed deeply.  “Understandable.”

“So?”  Johnny flicked ash onto the ground.  “What do you want, Bill Compton?”

“I don’t presume to know what, if anything, you plan to do about this situation,” Bill began.  “However, I know what _I_ would do if I were you.”

“Your point being?”

“My point being that the club is guarded after-hours and into the daytime,” the vampire continued.  “Ten or so men most of the time, but… given the circumstances… I would bank on at least double that.  It’s not often that Eric goes to ground there, but I have every reason to believe that he will tonight. The men are highly skilled, very elite.  But still  _human_.”

Bill paused and waited for realization to hit home.  It didn’t take long. He continued:

“A staff member usually hangs around, answering phone calls, taking deliveries, that sort of thing.  My guess is that it will be Ginger, a rather clueless woman with a tendency to scream.  A lot.  In her possession one should find a set of master keys, one of which will open the door to the room the next level down where Pam and Eric will be.  Another will grant access to the room where your friend is being held.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Johnny asked, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously.  “Why on earth would you help me?”

“I’m not helping you,” Bill insisted.  “That would be treason.  I am… merely… talking.  However, should you happen to glean anything from this conversation to use to your advantage, then that has nothing to do with me.”

“Fair enough.”  Johnny pitched his cigarette and lit another one.  “Anything else?”

“Yes.  Eric Northman is one of the most powerful vampires I have ever met. Do not engage him lightly.”  Bill’s voice was grave and full of warning.  “Also, whatever you do, be sure to do it before sundown tomorrow.  Before the Authority becomes involved.”

“The Authority?”

Bill nodded.  “You stand a chance against Eric, slim as it might be.  But you absolutely _cannot win_ against the Authority.  They hold dominion over all vampires, everywhere.”

“Do they?  I must have missed the memo.” 

Johnny contemplated Bill’s words.  There was always a chance that the vampire was lying to him, that this was some sort of means of luring him back to Fangtasia to be captured, but deep down he did not believe that to be true.  Bill Compton did not strike him as a liar.  While his intentions were likely selfish-- namely the protection of his darling fucking Sookie--Johnny did not sense a hint of deception in Bill’s actions.  Besides, even if it turned out that he _was_ lying about everything he had said, that did not change the fact that Johnny had already planned to go after Charley anyway, regardless of consequence. 

Bill stepped down from the porch and glanced towards the house. “One more thing.  Should anyone be made aware of my visit here tonight, it could prove to be somewhat problematic.” 

“Got it.  No one will say a thing.” 

“Thank you. Good luck.”

And then he was gone.

*****

“Mister?”

Charley opened his eyes, tried not to think about the fact that he was standing in a drying pool of his own blood, and found the woman that Eric had so callously ravaged--Ginger--staring at him, her eyes wide with dread.  She was holding a bottle of Tru Blood in front of him with a trembling, outstretched arm. 

“I-I’m supposed to give you this,” she said nervously. 

“I don’t want it.”

“Please, Mister,” she begged.  “You really should drink some.”

The cyborg calmly regarded the blond for a moment, and a sad, unsettling thought occurred to him. 

Her trepidation was not directed at him.

“They will punish you if I don’t?”

Ginger averted her eyes.  Although she did not respond, the look of sheer terror on her face was answer enough.

“Very well,” he said.  “Give it to me.”

The woman sighed in obvious relief and offered him the bottle.  Charley allowed as much of the foul liquid to pour into his mouth as he could stomach before turning his head, and it took all of his might to swallow it without retching. 

“Thank you,” Ginger said with genuine gratitude.

“You’re welcome.”

Present dilemma aside, Charley could not help but feel a stab of sympathy for her.  While she did not seem to be there completely against her will, she did not strike him as a sycophant, either.  It was neither his place to ask nor his right to judge what chain of events led her to this, but still, how awful a thing, to live in that kind of fear.  It also made breaking free from his chains--something he suspected he could do, difficult though it would be--and holding her hostage pointless.  Eric would not care if Charley threatened this woman’s life, however insincerely.  He probably would have struck her down with his own hands to rid himself of the nuisance. 

The hunter drank again, cringing as the disgusting beverage flowed down his throat.  Although he still had yet to make heads or tails of the vampire’s odd behavior after casually cutting and splaying him open, Charley did not believe for one moment that sincerity played a part in any of it.  He had no idea what was meant to become of him, but he was positive that whatever it was did not include being released with a handshake and an apology.

It hurt him deeply to think that he would never see Johnny’s face again, but if it was God’s will that he die there, then so be it.

However. That was not to say he intended to do so without a fight.

*****

“Y’all motherfuckers are crazy.”

Johnny grinned.  He liked this Lafayette person, very much.  “Care to join us?”

“ _Hell_ _no_.”

While Rayfell sat outside, smoothing things over with Cheryl on the phone, Johnny, Sam, and Lafayette inspected the vast array of items and weaponry that were displayed on the coffee table.  With the cost of silver being what it was, what they had before them was roughly enough to purchase a car.  Maybe even two.  Johnny wasn’t sure what kind of connections the muscular yet somewhat effeminate cook had that he was able to amass such a collection in so short a period time, but he was extremely impressed all the same.

“Thanks, man,” Sam said, eyeballing a gun clip filled with wooden bullets.  “I owe you one.”

“Bitch, you owe me more than one,” Lafayette shot back.  “And try not to get your ass killed, okay?  No one else is hiring around here.”

“Deal.”

After he left, Sam collapsed in a chair and ran a hand over his face. “Jesus.  We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

Johnny nodded.  “It’s not too late to say no, you know.  I won’t hold it against you.”

“Ah, fuck it,” Sam said with a shrug. 

“Indeed.”  Johnny smiled kindly at the shifter.  “Get some sleep.  I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

Sam rose from the chair with a grunt and wandered off to the guest bedroom for a nap.  With Alcide sleeping in the master bedroom and Rayfell out back, Johnny was finally left alone with his thoughts.  Without the distraction of conversation, the seed of worry that had been planted when this all began now bloomed, causing him to ponder the many things that might be happening to Charley, as well as the things that had _already_ happened to him.  The idea that he was suffering any manner of torment made Johnny physically ache and filled him with a rage beyond words. 

He really _would_ destroy Bon Temps if anything happened to Charley. And his fury was such that he probably wouldn’t stop there.

“Hold on, Cherry,” he whispered to the empty room.  “I’m coming.”

*****

Having endured the slow crawl of time, centuries to be exact, was nothing compared to the agony of waiting for sixty minutes to pass.

Johnny could see the shift in the color of the horizon.  What was black was now a little less black, the stars a little less brilliant.  While light had yet to breach, he could still feel the change in the atmosphere, like a strange sort of static electricity, and if he stayed outside much longer, it would start to sting just a bit.

He crushed his cigarette under his foot and stood up from the porch step, his sharp ears picking up all the sounds of Louisiana wildlife stirring around him in anticipation of the new day.

It was finally time to go. 


	13. Chapter 13

Originally posted to LiveJournal on 4/2/12.

 

_Breaking Cherry  
Chapter 13_

“I feel so bad,” Sookie said as she leaned against the coffin that held her lover.

“You thought you were doing the right thing at the time,” Bill reassured her.  “As did I.”

The young woman reached down and swept a lock of brown hair from Bill’s forehead.  “I know, but still… oh, I don’t know.  But I want to do something to make it right.”

“Sookie…”

“I’m not saying that I’m going to go take on Eric Northman or anything like that,” she stated.  “But there has to be something else I can do to help them.”

“Even if I didn’t believe that you are the absolute last person that Johnny Rayflo wants to see right now, what on earth do you think you could possibly do to help save his vampire?”

Sookie frowned in thought.  In the end, all she could do was shrug.

But Bill knew his woman better than that.  Sookie was, without a doubt, one of the most stubborn souls that he had ever come across in the better part of two hundred years. If she set her mind to do something, then damn it, she was going to find a way to do it.

And _that_ was what worried him.

“Sookie Stackhouse,” he began, grabbing her gently by the arm.  “I want your word that you are not going to do anything rash. I walked in the sunlight once to save you.  Don’t make me do it again.”

“Okay, okay.”  Sookie looked him square in the eyes.  “I promise that I won’t do anything rash.”

The vampire regarded her for a moment before appearing satisfied.  “Thank you.”

She kissed him gently on the lips.  “Now get some sleep,” she said.  “The sun’s almost up.”

Sookie closed the coffin and left the basement.  After a quick final check of all the windows and doors, she walked out of Bill’s house and locked up behind her. 

Technically, she hadn’t lied.  She really wasn’t going to do anything _rash_.

She would take her time and carefully plot each and every single move that she was going to make.

*****

“I apologize for being unable to offer you something more accommodating to go to ground,” Eric said, tugging on one of the heavy chains that bound Charley to the wall.  “But I can guarantee you that sunlight will not reach this room.”

Charley felt no need to divulge the fact that he would not be affected even if it did.  He did not want to give Eric another reason to cut him open again. 

“Assuming that it hurts you at all, of course,” Eric added with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

He reached behind Charley’s neck and pulled one of his cables over his shoulder.  Charley fought the urge to cringe visibly as the tall vampire ran his fingers along it in a manner that was almost obscene. 

“It’s a shame that we couldn’t get to know each other better tonight.  I was quite eager to find out the reason behind all of… this.”

Eric dropped the cable and smiled coldly.

“Try to sleep well, Charles.  It may be the last time that you do.”

He left the room.  Charley heard the distinct sounds of locking and bolting. 

The only thing left to do now was await his fate, whatever it might be.

*****

“You look ridiculous with that blanket wrapped around you like that,” Rayfell remarked to Johnny, conveniently ignoring the fact that she was similarly cocooned in a rather horrendous looking quilt. 

“You look ridiculous in general,” Johnny shot back.

She glared murder at him, two dark eyes and a tuft of unruly hair the only thing visible from beneath their only protection from the rays of sun that filtered into the house through drawn curtains.  While it was normally in her nature to offer a comeback to his comeback, she held her tongue.  Now was not the time to bicker like children.

Johnny peered around the living room at Sam and Alcide and Rayfell.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.  Sincerely.  “All of you.  I couldn’t have done this without your help.  Well, I could have tried--I _would_ have tried--but I don’t know how well it would have gone.”

He walked over to two small black suitcases and rested his foot atop one of them.

“Remember, the minute that Rayfell and I are inside, the two of you stay back until we come to the door with Cherry,” Johnny said to Sam and Alcide.  “You guys have to live here so I’m not going to bring any more trouble on you than I already have.  And if it looks or sounds like things are going badly, I want you to get the hell out of there.  I _mean_ it.”

Sam and Alcide exchanged an uncomfortable glance, and Johnny knew that they both had zero intention of doing as he asked with regards to bailing. He didn’t think that he could have found two better cohorts if he had tried.

“Okay then,” he said.  “Let’s go.”

Johnny pulled Alcide to the side while Sam finished loading the weapons and Rayfell into the werewolf's van.

“What is it?” the large man asked.

“When the time comes, there’s something that I’m going to need you to do for me…”

*****

“Hm. I only see two guys on the door and they’re both armed to hell and back,” Sam said as he squinted through the passenger window at the front exterior of Fangtasia.  Since he tended to retain trace abilities of the animals he shifted into, his eyesight was as sharp as an eagle’s.  “Maybe Bill overestimated.”

“Or maybe more are around back,” Alcide replied.  “I reckon the bulk of them would be inside anyway.”

“Only one way to find out for sure.”  Sam stripped off his shirt and unfastened his belt.  “Uh… sorry about this.”

Alcide, who had probably seen enough cocks and bare asses to last him a lifetime on account of his confrontations with other weres, merely smiled and turned the other way.  “No problem, man,” he reassured him.  “I’ll stare at your dick all day if it gets us out of this in one piece.”

One of the suitcases in the back suddenly tipped over violently, seemingly of its own accord.

“Apparently you’re not the only one who would,” Sam said, grinning. He pushed his jeans down and off and lowered the window.  “Be right back.”

Seconds later, a beagle scuffled his way through the window and down to the ground, and then carefully made his way across the street, carefully avoiding traffic and people alike.  While Alcide had always thought that shifters were on the lower rung of all things supernatural, Sam’s gift definitely served them well in this case. 

He watched the pup until he disappeared behind Fangtasia.  The guards on the door hadn’t paid him the least bit of attention whatsoever.  As far as they noticed or knew, Sam was just some random stray dog sniffing around for something to eat.

So far, so good.

*****

Sookie floored the ancient yellow Honda as much as she dared without fear of speeding ticket or engine failure.  Although she was only about fifteen minutes away from her destination, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was running out of time.  Every single second counted.

She knew exactly what she was going to do.  Or _try_ to do, at any rate.  Although it probably wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of an incredibly dangerous endeavor, if it helped at all to reunite those two vampires who had simply wanted to take a vacation together before she ruined it, then she was more than willing to try. 

Her telepathy would be useless. 

But luckily, that was not her only power.

*****

 Two men up front, three in the back.

Alcide liked those odds.

“The back alley runs up the road,” Sam said as he pulled his shirt over his head.  “I figure we set up a few blocks away and move in from there.  That way we’re not running around naked out in the open.”

“Sounds good.”  Alcide glanced worriedly at him. “I don’t suppose you can shift into anything a little more… intimidating?”

“I can shift into any animal that I’ve seen up close and personal,” Sam answered.

Alcide thought for a moment.

“Have you ever seen a werewolf up close and personal?” he finally asked.

Sam smiled.  “Not yet.”

*****

Charley opened his eyes and blinked into the darkness.

He knew it would come to this.  All along, and deep down, he just _knew_.

His master had come to save him.

And God help anyone who got in his way.


	14. Chapter 14

Originally posted to LiveJournal on 10/2/12.

 

_Breaking Cherry  
Chapter 14_

To say that strange things occurred in Louisiana was an understatement of the most epic proportions.  For that reason, had anyone caught sight of the two naked men in a back alley, kneeling down on the ground and gazing deeply into one another's eyes as if on the verge of the strangest mating ritual ever, they would have probably thought nothing of it and kept right on walking. 

Or they would have stopped and asked to join in. Either was possible in those parts.

“Do I need to do anything special?” Alcide asked Sam, his dark hair hanging down and partially concealing his ruggedly handsome face.

The shifter shook his head.  “Just do your thing and I’ll do the rest.”

“Okay.”

Alcide closed his eyes.  When he opened them again, they had taken on an ominous amber glow.  It was beautiful, but in an extremely terrifying way.  Seconds later, the man transformed into a beast, a wolf that was larger and grander and _far deadlier_ than its normal counterpart.  A low growl rose in his throat as he looked upon Sam, as if trying to recall that the man was not his prey, a friend and not a foe.

Sam let out a nervous sigh and tried to concentrate.  He had never been this close to a werewolf before, and he would be lying if he did not admit that it scared the shit out of him, staring such a thing directly in the face. But he could piss himself about it later. Right now, he needed to focus.

His breathing quickened as he looked the big wolf in the eyes… seeing him… seeing inside of him… and then  _becoming_ him.  Or something somewhat similar.  Wolf-Sam was slightly lighter in color and his eyes were devoid of that preternatural gleam, but he was every bit as huge and powerful as the animal he emulated.  While he was aware of himself as he always was when he shifted, strong was the urge to yield to the new and frightening and almost overwhelming desire that this new form brought with it, to hunt and maim and yes, even kill, and to do so indiscriminately.  It was as if his humanity had taken a backseat, still there but murky and faraway, diminished.  As usual, there was a sense of duality as a result of the change, with the human side of himself watching in awe and dread as this present being consumed him, and he knew that he would have to tread cautiously lest he lose himself to the monster he had become. 

They moved down the back alley in tandem until they reached the rear of Fangtasia.  Fortunately, their objective was made relatively easy by the fact that the guards were not expecting them; having been trained to fend off a human threat in the daytime was of no effect at all against the presence of supernatural beings with freakish strength and an innate and nearly insatiable urge to rend.  In the midst of all the chaos, one of the men fired off a shot that went wild before Wolf-Alcide latched onto him and viciously mauled him within an inch of his life. 

Upon hearing the screams and the gunshot, the guards who had been stationed at the front of the club came running, weapons drawn.  The wolves turned on them, boldly staring down the barrels of loaded guns and preparing to pounce…  

… when two brilliant blasts of light flew over their heads and hit the men dead in the chest, sending them somersaulting through the air and into the brick wall of the building that neighbored Fangtasia.  Their heads hit the hard surface with a loud and horrible sounding thump, and they fell to the ground, unconscious. 

The animals spun around and spotted the source of the strange power that had very likely spared their lives.

Sookie Stackhouse smiled, as if seeing a pair of werewolves in an otherwise deserted back alley was the most normal thing in the world.

Then again, considering where they were, it sort of was.

“Hello, boys.”

*****

“Sookie, what _the hell_ are you doing here?”

After asking, Sam turned his head and spat out a large glob of saliva and blood and… other stuff.  The saliva was the only thing that was his.  While the wolf in him might have had a taste for the meat of men, his human self was duly revolted.

“Saving your ass,” Sookie replied.  She paused for a moment and stared at her employer and friend, then cheekily added, “Which you haven’t even bothered covering up yet.”

“What in the world was that, anyway?” Alcide, also still gloriously nude, asked as he set about wrenching open the back door to the club.  “How did you do that?”

The young woman waved off the question.  “Family secret,” was all that she had to say on the matter.

“You should get out of here,” Sam said, grabbing the suitcases that they had retrieved.  “I highly doubt your boyfriend would appreciate what you’re doing.”

Sookie rolled her eyes.  “Why don’t you let me worry about that?”  Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the suitcases.  “Is Johnny… in _there_?”

“Yeah. Bats.”

“Huh.”  Her head tilted as she pondered that bit of information.  “None of the vampires around here can do that,” she pointed out.

Sam shrugged.  “I don’t know, maybe it’s a regional thing.”

Alcide finally managed to open the door and turned to look at the two of them.  “Okay, here we go.  Sookie, I want you to stay here and keep an eye out in case more of them come along,” he ordered her, motioning with his head towards the fallen guards.  “If they do, hit them with your… flash… thing… and hightail it out of here.”

“But--!”

“Damn it, woman, don’t argue with me.  Now is not the time to be bull-headed.”  Alcide’s voice was firm and demanding.  “Besides, this is Johnny’s fight.  We’re just paving the way.”

He picked up the large bag of stakes and chains and other implements intended to kill the undead.  “Ready, Sam?”

Sam nodded.  “Ready.”

They quietly stepped into the back door of Fangtasia…

*****

… and were greeted by a dozen armed guards.  And their guns.

“Shit!”

Alcide kicked the door closed, both to keep Sookie _and_ the sunlight from coming inside.  By the time his ears picked up on the shot, the pain was already there, the bullet boring into his left shoulder and pulverizing everything underneath.  It was not a fatal wound, thankfully, but it still hurt like a motherfucker.

“Do it now!” he screamed at Sam.

The light in the back room was dim and, more importantly, artificial.  Sam flicked open the clasps on the suitcases and heaved them towards the mob with a mighty grunt.

What he saw next would haunt him for the rest of his life.

A massive swarm of bats burst from the suitcases and took flight.  They descended upon the guards, biting and gouging and tearing and shredding everything in their path.  Anguished screams echoed in the back room as men who had been trained for almost every manner of combat were reduced to shrieking and shooting at random.  One of them inadvertently shot his comrade in the face while flailing about as his eyes were being ripped from his skull, sending blood and brain and bits of cranium showering onto the man standing beside him, who was too busy having his nose devoured to notice.  The cries of another took on a horridly gurgled quality as his throat was torn open, which caused blood to geyser forth and soak everything in its path.  One of the bats burrowed into a man’s mouth and clawed its way out through his right cheek, leaving behind a gaping hole that revealed bone and teeth and tongue.  The massacre was seemingly endless. 

Sam and Alcide watched in terror as blood and chunks of flesh hit the floor in a shower of wet thumps.  When no one was left standing, the bats merged together and gradually materialized into two like forms standing amidst the carnage and gore. 

Johnny and Rayfell.

“Holy fucking shit,” Sam whispered shakily.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Johnny said, calmly running ringed fingers through thick and dark waves of hair.  He then glanced at Alcide and spotted the man’s injury.  “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be okay,” Alcide reassured him as he handed over the bag.  “You two better get going.”

Johnny nodded in agreement.  The vampire turned towards Rayfell.  “Come on.”

“But… he’s _so_ _naked_ ,” she argued, eyes wide and ogling the large man.  “Can’t I just stay here with them?”

“Rayfell…”

“Fine.” 

They disappeared through the door that led to the club’s inner workings, the door that would lead them straight to Eric’s office.  After a moment, and not surprisingly in the least, Rayfell poked her head back out and offered the nude man a salacious smile.

“Hey, if you don’t have any plans after this is over--”

She was roughly pulled back through the door before she could finish her statement.

As far as Alcide was concerned, it was probably for the best.

*****

“Cockblocker,” Rayfell muttered as she followed Johnny down the hallway.

“I’m sure Alcide has better things to do besides _you_ ,” Johnny shot back. 

They stepped into Eric’s office, which was empty.  _At a glance._

You see, human fear had a very distinct smell.  Pungent.  It was almost overwhelming. 

And it made hiding impossible.

Johnny stepped around Eric’s desk and crouched down.  The woman crammed beneath it opened her mouth, her scream cut short when Johnny reached into her mind and claimed it for himself.

“Hello,” he said kindly, extending his hand. 

The woman took it without question and allowed the vampire to help her to her feet.

“You must be Ginger.”

She nodded, her eyes large and unblinking.

“She’s kind of hot.” Rayfell moved in beside Johnny to check the woman out. “Make her take off her shirt.”

“Ginger,” Johnny continued, ignoring his sex-starved other half. “I understand that you have in your possession a set of master keys to this establishment?”

Ginger nodded again.  “Yes.”

“Show us your tits,” Rayfell piped in, earning her a hard jab in the side.

“Give them to me,” Johnny instructed.  “And then I want you to leave this club, get into your car, and drive until the sun goes down. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Johnny nodded his approval as keys were obediently placed in the palm of his hand.  “Good girl.”

After she left, he stared down at them and tried to sort out which one went where. 

But it hardly mattered.  He would figure it out along the way.

*****

Although Charley had not heard the commotion overhead, he could feel Johnny’s presence growing stronger with every passing minute.

Nearer. 

And finally…

_There_.

The door opened slowly.

And in spite of every horror bestowed upon him over the night, he began to smile.

“Master…”


	15. Chapter 15

Originally posted to LiveJournal on 11/12/12.

 

_Breaking Cherry  
Chapter 15_

Their eyes met across the room through the dim and dank.  For Charley, it was like being born again. 

_Again_.

Had he not been bound to a wall, he would have very likely collapsed to his knees, such was the magnitude of emotions that overcame him upon seeing his master, something that, up until that very moment, he had not been entirely sure would ever happen again.  Something inside of him, lifetimes in the making, broke wide open, flooding him with the certainty of everything that he had tried to deny over their many years together. It was an epiphany. 

It was _love_.  Pure and simple and absolute.

“Hey, Cherry,” Johnny said, calmly as he pleased, as if he did not just commit a host of atrocities to find him and while the relief and affection in his eyes told a different tale altogether.  “Sorry I’m late.”

Seeing his carefree façade, however feigned, put Charley’s heart and mind at ease. “You do enjoy making an entrance.”

The vampire approached him slowly, never faltering in his gaze.  “I do,” he agreed.

“How… How did you…?”  Charley shook his head.  It really didn’t matter how Johnny managed to be standing before him, pulling off the impossible while most of Shreveport was just sitting down to breakfast.  He was there.  That was enough. 

Besides, Charley knew better than anyone that there was nothing that Johnny Rayflo couldn’t achieve, if he had the will to do so.

“I’ll explain it all later.”  Johnny began to sort through the jumble of keys in his hand in an effort to find the one needed to free the cyborg.  Charley waited as patiently as he could, basking in Johnny’s presence and trying to contain the fierceness of his longing.  It was a new sensation for him, now wholly unrestrained, and he was having a difficult time controlling it.  When he was finally free, he swept his maker into a crushing embrace, fingers clawing and twisting into clothing and face burrowing into a smooth, pale neck.  Johnny’s arms wrapped around him, his hands stroking and smoothing his back.  Charley was weak from hunger and torture and the urge to bite was unbelievably immense.  But the urge to hold him, just to hold him, was far greater.

Or at least it was until Johnny tilted his head and pressed up against Charley, making his intention glaringly obvious. 

“You must be starving,” he whispered, sparking another kind of hunger.  “Go ahead. Do it.”

After that, nothing short of the Almighty Himself could have stopped Charley.  And even that was debatable. He bit viciously into Johnny’s neck, teeth sinking through flesh until blood poured forth in a steady stream that he swallowed eagerly. Johnny grunted and hissed and yanked him back against the same wall from which he had just been released, their bodies sliding together against cold and unyielding brick as Charley fed.

There had always been a sexual undertone to these moments, much to Charley’s outward chagrin.  But when the hunter felt his maker against him, _hard_ against him, grinding at his thigh without an ounce of shame or remorse, Charley knew that he could never go back to pretending that he did not want what he actually craved more than anything.

With a painfully desperate moan that he barely recognized as his own, he began to thrust against Johnny as he sucked him, hips bucking and rocking, seeking more of the friction that threatened to unravel him.  In his inexperience, he was not exactly sure of what he was doing, only that it felt good and right and that he was literally seconds away from coming in his pants. 

Surprisingly, it was _Johnny_ who put a halt to things, gently but firmly pushing Charley away in spite of his own undeniable state of arousal, speaking up as the voice of reason in what was proving to be a very unreasonable circumstance.

“That's enough for now.” The trembling of his voice was outmatched only by the trembling of his body.  “We need to get out of here.”

In the back of his mind where there was still such a thing as common sense and logic, Charley understood this very well.  They had to leave and put as much distance between them and Eric Northman as possible.  This was not an option. So why wasn’t he moving?

Johnny ran his hands up Charley’s chest and neck until they cupped his face, hands that were cool and attentive and not helping the situation at all.

“Once we’re clear of this place, you can have me, Cherry,” he promised while leaning forward and licking a thin trail of his own blood from Charley’s chin.  “You can have as much of me as you want. But right now, we have to leave.”

Charley had no idea how on earth he was even supposed to walk after that, not when everything below his waist was a maelstrom of pleasure _and_ pain.  But Johnny was right.  Although it was daytime, there was no telling what obstacles awaited them.

He nodded reluctantly and waited for Johnny to take the lead since he had no idea where to go upon exiting the room.  Johnny backed away and turned to leave.

Then he saw the enormous pool of dried blood on the floor.

*****

Blood.

_Cherry’s_ blood.

Johnny stared at the dark spot for a long time, his desire now diminished (slightly) and his fury growing with each passing second.  

Someone was going to die _very_ soon.

He looked at his progeny, his eyes black with rage.

“What did he do to you?”

“Master...”

_“What did he do to you?”_

“It doesn’t matter,” Charley insisted, taking him by the arm.  “I'm okay now. So come on.  We’re leaving, right?” 

Right.  Getting Charley to safety was first and foremost.  Everything else could wait. Even revenge.

They left the room together.  Johnny growled a particularly colorful obscenity at Rayfell, who made the unfortunate mistake of asking what the fuck took them so long.  He led them back through the maze of hallways in the direction of the rear of Fangtasia.  Before they entered the room where numerous men had met their demise in the most gruesome of ways, Johnny stopped and turned to Charley, hoping to prepare the spiritually-minded vampire for the worst.

“You won’t like what you’re about to see,” he said quietly.  “I had to… hurt people…”

Without waiting for a response, Johnny stepped into the back room. His sharp ears caught a stunned gasp as Charley entered behind him.  They navigated their way over the pile of bodies towards the door where Sam and Alcide waited, now semi-clothed thanks to Sookie--much to Rayfell’s disappointment--and very much relieved.

“Take him to the van,” Johnny instructed Sam. 

Charley stared at him with concern in his eyes.  “What about you?”

“I can’t very well go walking out into broad daylight, can I?” Johnny asked, motioning at a gore covered suitcase for emphasis.  “Don’t worry, Cherry.  Alcide’s going to pack us up and we’ll be right behind you. Now _go_.” 

Uncertainty plagued the hunter as Johnny and Rayfell positioned themselves along a spot of wall that the sunlight would not be able to touch.  Johnny met his eyes and gave him a cheeky wink, after which Charley finally, albeit hesitantly, allowed Sam to lead him out the door.

“You sure about this?”  Alcide gathered up the suitcases and closed them, carefully on account of his gunshot wound.  “Even if you pull it off, you won’t have a way to get out of here.”

“I’ll improvise,” the vampire replied.

“You damn well better,” Rayfell piped in.  “I didn’t come all this way to die for your booty call.”

“You’re free to leave, bitch,” Johnny pointed out.

“And let you have all the fun?  Fuck that.”

Alcide extended his hand to Johnny. 

Johnny took it.

They shook in a silent show of mutual respect… until Rayfell forced her way between them and more or less tried to hump Alcide standing. 

It was, as she explained it, for good luck.

*****

Five minutes, a whole lot of swearing, and countless threats of physical violence later, the kindred were in a room bearing two coffins and the unmistakable smell of death.  One of the coffins was pink and sickeningly frilly, and clearly meant for Eric’s progeny (Rayfell naturally wanted to know if she was hot).  The other was black and long and almost as intimidating as the one resting inside of it.  Eric’s coffin. 

Eric.  Just thinking of his name made Johnny’s blood boil.

Very carefully, Rayfell set the bag of goodies on the floor. They each donned a pair of gloves and went to work, moving quickly but quietly to achieve their objective.  When Johnny was sure that Pam’s coffin was secured via the chains wrapped and locked around it, he gingerly straddled the bottom half of Eric’s with the special little gift picked just for him.  He then remembered the blood.  Cherry’s blood.  And his fury was renewed.

He was going to kill Eric Northman.

But first he was going to make him suffer.

He glanced at Rayfell and nodded, and she yanked open the top half of the coffin.  Eric barely had enough time to open his eyes and bare his fangs before a thick, heavy section of pure silver chain mail was draped across his face, covering it completely.  The vampire’s howl of shock and agony filled the room, as did plumes of smoke and the overwhelming stench of burning dead flesh.

Johnny smiled coldly, his fingers tightening around a silver stake…

*****

Charley stared out of the passenger side window as Alcide followed Sookie’s tragic excuse for a vehicle.  The car he had driven was still in the parking lot of the club, the keys--as well as the rest of the contents of his pockets--confiscated by Eric and nowhere to be found.  Although he should have been relieved, his face was drawn in a frown, and his insides felt like they were tied in knots.  It was a feeling that he had not been able to shake, a feeling that persisted, grew stronger with each passing mile.  It did not sit right with him, the way that Johnny had sent him ahead. 

Something was wrong.

“Alcide?”

“… Yeah?”

Charley turned to look at the werewolf, who seemed peculiarly determined to keep his eyes on the road. And then he knew.

Honest men never made good liars.

He unfastened his seat belt and crawled between the seats, ignoring Alcide’s cries of warning and pushing his way past Sam until he was in the back of the van.  Even though he already had a good idea of what he was going to find when he grabbed the suitcases and flipped the latches, he still hoped against hope as he opened them, wanting to believe that his master was not crazy enough to do what Charley suspected.

He should have known better.

“This is what he wanted,” Alcide said. 

But Charley was already gone, bursting out of the rear doors of the van and obliterating the front end of the car that had the misfortune of traveling behind it.  From there, he hit the ground and took off, racing towards Fangtasia and praying to God that he made it back in time.


	16. Chapter 16

Originally posted to LiveJournal on 11/26/12.

 

_Breaking Cherry  
Chapter 16_

It was sort of like acupuncture.  Gone _horribly_ wrong.

Johnny gazed down at the blood-drenched form lying in the coffin beneath him, his expression scarily calm. Eleven long silver stakes protruded from various places along Eric’s torso and upper arms, pinning him to the inside of the coffin.  Although none of them were close enough to his heart to do fatal damage, the pain, Johnny imagined, was immense.  He could only hope so, as Eric had stopped screaming, thus denying him the satisfaction of listening to the beautiful sound of his agony.  However, that was to be expected since the chain mail had pooled around his neck and burned its way through, reducing his throat to little more than a gory and gurgling mess of bits and pieces.

His underling, on the other hand, seemed bound and determined to make up for her master’s lack of yelling.  The racket was thankfully muted since she was locked in her own coffin, but even so, Johnny paid it no mind.  He paid Rayfell no mind.  The sun was up outside and the odds of making it out of Fangtasia in one piece were very slim, but none of that mattered either.  Johnny was in a zone now, one of pure hate and fury and rage, and the _only_ thing that mattered was making Eric suffer to his last breath, which would be coming shortly.

He tilted his head slightly, contemplating his next move.  And once again, he remembered the dried pool of blood and tried to envision the atrocity behind it.  That was the most damning thing of all, knowing that his Cherry had been subjected to such unthinkable treatment.  Seized by a fresh wave of anger, Johnny clenched his teeth.  A twelfth stake dug its way into Eric’s left shoulder with terrible slowness, gouging and rending flesh until the tip of it struck bone.  Johnny then flatted his hand along the top of the stake, adjusted the angle of it, and bore down with all of his might until it practically disappeared, piercing the vampire’s lung in the process.  Eric’s body lurched, shaking the coffin, but Johnny squeezed his legs and held on until it eventually subsided.

One stake left.  Lucky number thirteen.  Johnny gripped it tightly in one hand and stripped away the chain mail with the other, taking with it a considerable amount of hair as well as chunks of skin and flesh.  Eric’s face, or rather, what was _left_ of it, was an unspeakable ruin.  Piercing eyes were the only things that remained remotely recognizable after all of that, and they glared up at Johnny, expressing an ire that could no longer be spoken.  Johnny was tempted to retrieve all the stakes, let the bastard’s wounds heal, and start all over again.  And again and again and again.  At that moment, it did not seem unreasonable whatsoever to spend forever torturing Eric Northman.

But he also knew that time was not on his side.  Surely the humans that he and Rayfell killed were accountable to someone during the light of day, and unlike vampires, their absence would not go unnoticed until the sun set.

So unfortunately, the time had come to end it.

“Well, this has been most enjoyable,” Johnny said, moving the final stake into position over Eric’s heart.

“…am…”

Johnny paused.  He was admittedly impressed; that Eric was able to verbalize _anything_ spoke volumes of his remarkably fast-acting ability to regenerate.

“What?” he asked.  Not that he particularly cared, but he supposed that he should give the prick some manner of final word.

A rather unpleasant noise rose from Eric’s throat as he struggled to speak again. “… Pam,” he croaked.

“Pam?” 

Johnny blinked, perplexed.  After a moment, he realized who the vampire was talking about.  He nodded towards the chained pink coffin upon which Rayfell leaned with a gun in her hand, poised to deliver a wooden bullet in the event of Eric’s escape. 

“Oh, she’s perfectly fine.  Loud, but fine.  And she’ll stay that way as long as you don’t try to do anything stupid.”  He laughed, although there was no humor at all to be found in the sound of it.  “You know, I can’t help but find it ironic that you show concern for your progeny when you didn’t even think twice about hurting mine. Oh well. I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.”

He raised the stake high.

“Goodbye, Eric--”

_“Master!”_

*****

Charley could not believe that he actually made it.  He had thought for sure that he would be too late to stop his maker from doing something that he could never take back.

He stepped into the room, ignoring Rayfell and the pink casket behind her from which emanated a stream of muffled screams.  Charley soon saw _why_ he was still able to prevent further catastrophe.  He gaped at Eric with wide eyes, horrified at the sight of him.  Blood, so much blood, everywhere the eye could see.  And… something else… something that used to be a face.

“Oh my God.”

He then looked at Johnny.  The vampire’s face was filled with what could only be described as murderous serenity.  This was _not_ his master.

But that the stake had halted in mid-air upon his arrival, that Eric had not yet been reduced to a lake of bloody goop, meant that there was still a chance to reach out to him, to appeal to the good in him. Hopefully.

“Master,” he said, risking a closer step.  “Don’t do this.”

“Save your breath,” Rayfell muttered.

“Cherry.”  Johnny’s tone was even, unsurprised.  He kept his eyes trained on Eric as he spoke again.  “You shouldn’t be here.”

Another step.  Not quite within reach just yet, but close enough to act should drastic measures be required.

“Neither should you.  I can’t believe that you thought you could get away with lying to me.”

“I didn’t,” Johnny replied.  “I just needed to buy some time.  Now leave before it’s too late.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“I said get out of here, Cherry.  That’s an order.” Johnny’s words were serious and absolute, brooking no argument.

“… No.”

Charley swallowed hard and stood his ground.  He frequently disobeyed his master when it came to his silly and petulant (and occasionally sexual) requests.  But this was different in many ways, as evidenced by the fact that Johnny was actually attempting to pull rank to get him to comply.

It was, quite literally, a matter of life and death.

Finally, Johnny turned and acknowledged the cyborg.  “You would honestly defy me to save him?”

Charley shook his head.  “I’m not trying to save _him_.”

“Oh, here we go,” Rayfell groaned, sticking the gun to her temple and pretending to shoot.

“What you did out there… to those men…” Charley continued as he cautiously approached the vampire.  “You had to do that to find me.  I understand that.  But this?  This is wrong.  You _know_ it is, and you’re better than that.  So put down the stake.  And let’s go home.  _Please_.”

He could see the internal struggle playing out behind Johnny’s eyes.  Charley knew it was hypocritical to try and talk him out of his need for vengeance; if the situation had been reversed, if Eric had harmed Johnny in any way, he would have killed him without hesitation.  But that was beside the point.

Johnny’s eyes closed as artificial digits traced along his jaw.  “Cherry,” he whispered, leaning into his touch.

“Look, I hate to ruin such a nauseatingly romantic scene,” Rayfell began.  “But before the two of you start having actual sex right there on top of the goddamn coffin, I just want to point out that it’s not like he’s going to just call it a draw because you had a fucking change of heart.”

“She’s right, Cherry.”  Reluctantly, Johnny moved his head away from Charley.  “If we don’t finish this, then he’s going to come after us with his little vampire mafia friends.”

Charley looked at Eric, who was starting to appear more like himself again.  There was no denial, no promises to leave them alone.  Indeed, if they let this go now, there was no telling the lengths that he would go to track them down.

But it was still the right thing to do.

“Then let them come,” he said.  Charley leaned over the casket until he was face to (almost) face with Eric.  “I am a vampire hunter for the Vatican.  If you and your powers-that-be really want to start a war with one of the oldest and largest and most _powerful_ organizations in the history of Western civilization, then go right ahead.”  He stood upright. “There.  You wanted to know what I am. Now you know.”

With that, he turned to Johnny, offering him his hand.  After a while, Johnny sighed in resignation and took it.  He slid down from the coffin and into the circle of Charley’s arms, and just that bit of nearness was enough to wreak havoc on Charley’s concentration.

“Alright horndogs, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Rayfell said.

“Great idea.” Johnny was sounding more like Johnny now, much to Charley’s satisfaction.  “But how?”

After a quick glance about the room, Charley spotted the large bag of silver and other weaponry on the floor.  He walked over to it, grabbed it, and dumped out the remaining contents.  He then opened it up as wide as it would go and held it out to the pair of dark-haired beings.

“Ugh,” Rayfell and Johnny both grumbled.

Moments later, he zipped up the bag and slid it over his shoulder.  He could feel them both in there, fluttering wildly about, and he prayed that they wouldn’t hurt each other too badly in such a limited space.

“This… isn’t… over... Charles.”

Charley returned to the coffin.  Eric was still lodged in place by the stakes that penetrated his body, but his face was healed completely now, and it was full of hate and wrath.

“I know that, Eric,” the cyborg said quietly as he closed the lid. “I’ll be waiting.”

*****

Merlotte’s was eerie in its emptiness. But it was also a perfect daytime hiding spot, as the first staff was not even due to arrive until later that afternoon.  While Johnny and Rayfell bickered in the large walk-in freezer--which was cold but sunlight free--Charley, Sam, and Alcide were in Sam’s office, wrapping up a few remaining loose ends.  Sookie had left about ten minutes before, apologizing profusely to Charley for reasons he did not yet know.

“Are you sure that none of this can come back on you?” Charley asked.  “That’s the last thing I want.”

“I was just renting a place to you guys,” Sam said with feigned innocence.  “All I know is that when I went by the lake house to check on the two of you, you were already gone.  Took off.  No word, nothing.”

“And even if they figure out that the men outside were attacked by werewolves, they’ll assume it was a pack,” Alcide added with a shrug. “I'm okay with that.”

There was clearly no love lost between the big man and the local werewolves.  Charley assumed there was a story behind it, and he thought it a shame that he did not have time to hear it.

“How’s your arm?”

Alcide lifted his left sleeve, revealing a gunshot wound that was already close to being healed thanks to a few drops of Rayfell’s blood.  Johnny had initially offered, but Charley was having none of that.

“It’ll be fine,” he reassured him.

Charley pushed up his glasses and nodded.  “Alright.  Well, I guess we should get going then.  I want to put as many miles between us and Bon Temps as I can before nightfall.”

They rose to their feet.  Alcide excused himself to ready the van.  Since it was still daytime and Charley could think of no rational explanation for a carry-on bag packed full of bats, he and Johnny would be stowed away in an empty train boxcar, courtesy of a railroad employee friend of the werewolf’s.  Hardly an elegant mode of transportation, but one that would suffice until the sun went down and Johnny was fit to board a plane.  Rayfell insisted on staying behind until dark so that she could make her own way back as she had stated, with her usual eloquence, that she would have rather stabbed herself in the face than deal with Charley and Johnny fawning over each other for another minute.

“Thank you for everything, Sam.”  Charley smiled kindly at the shifter he was proud to call a friend.  “Are you sure you don’t mind babysitting the other one a little while longer?  I’m sure you already know that she can be quite a handful.”

“She’ll be in the freezer all day.  What’s she going to do, molest the meat?”

Charley cringed at the visual.

“When it comes to Rayfell… you never know.”

*****

“A telepath…”

In a world where vampires and werewolves and shapeshifters were not figments of the human imagination, Charley was still shocked by Johnny’s revelation that Sookie was a telepath.  If nothing else, her frantic apologies made sense now.

“I should have never pushed you into going to Fangtasia,” Johnny said after he finished telling the whole sordid tale.  His face was hardly visible in the boxcar, where a nearby flashlight was their only means of seeing, but what little Charley could see was masked with regret.   “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t,” Charley insisted, bringing his maker close and hugging him tightly.  All around them, the train rumbled and roared and swayed them gently.  “You had no way of knowing what would happen.”

He pressed his face into a thick head of hair and breathed in deeply, and just like that, his hunger was reawakened. The _carnal_ one.

As crazy as it sounded, Charley was glad that last night had happened.  Had those events not occurred, had he not been faced with the possibility of losing Johnny forever, then he would have never finally acknowledged the love and the longing that he had felt all along.

“The Lord does move in mysterious ways,” he mused.

Johnny sat up and peered at him, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.  “Are you about to go into some sort of sermon or something?  Because I don’t know if I can handle your bible-thumping right now--”

Charley snatched him into a sudden kiss.  He was still uncertain of the proper technique, but he must have been doing something right with the way that Johnny shuddered when his tongue pushed its way past the vampire’s lips.

Johnny pulled away from him sometime later, breathless.  “Hey, Cherry.  Where are we?”

“What?” Charley was confused.  “We’re in a boxcar.”

Johnny smiled.  “No, dummy.  I meant do you think that we’re still in Bon Temps?”

“Um… we’ve been moving for almost half an hour now, so probably not.  Why?”

“Because it means that you were able to keep your word.”

“Master, what are you talking about?”

Charley froze, eyes wide as saucers, as Johnny slid out of his embrace and straddled his thighs.

“You said that you planned on leaving Bon Temps with your sanctity intact, remember?”  Johnny removed Charley’s glasses and set them aside.  He then wrapped his arms around Charley’s neck and leaned in close.  “But we’re not in Bon Temps anymore.”

He started grinding against him, rubbing the outline of his erection along the cyborg’s lower stomach.  Charley gasped, his hands instinctively gripping Johnny at the waist and his brain on the verge of collapse from the sensation of all that mind-numbing friction.  And just when he thought that it couldn’t get better than that (oh, to be so naïve), Johnny scooted down his legs, forced his way between them, unzipped Charley’s pants, and…

“Oh… my… _GOD_.”

Johnny’s mouth… Johnny’s mouth was… wrapped around him… and doing things… _amazing_ things…

Charley’s head snapped back as he cried out, banging against the wall of the boxcar with a loud thump, his hands grasping at Johnny’s shoulders and his hips thrusting repeatedly as he was overcome by the mental and physical release of decades of repressed desire.  None of his solo endeavors could hold a candle to the pleasure that ravaged him now.  He knew it was sacrilegious to compare what he was presently experiencing to heaven, and he hoped that God would forgive him for it, just this once.

After they were done, Charley heard Johnny shifting and shuffling about but he was far too spent to care.  About a minute or so later, when he finally felt able, he opened his eyes to see what Johnny was doing.

And started getting hard all over again.

Johnny was naked between Charley’s legs, on his knees with one arm snaked behind his back and two cum-soaked fingers up his own ass.

Make that three.

Charley uttered something unintelligible as he watched Johnny watching him finger himself open.  The light from the flashlight was dim, but it was more than enough to see everything he wanted to see.  There was something almost hypnotic about the way that his slick digits plunged and twisted and curled like that, and it was all Charley could do not to push Johnny down and clumsily force his way inside of him.

When Johnny deemed himself ready, he withdrew his fingers and tugged on the legs of Charley’s pants.

“Raise up a bit,” he instructed.

Charley did as he was told, and he was naked in no time.  Johnny pushed him to the floor and straddled him again, touching him all over, every inch of skin that he could reach.

“Master…”  Charley’s voice was raw with desperation.  He could only take so much more of Johnny’s ass rubbing against his cock before he went mad from it.     
  
Tight.  Wet.  Johnny was both of those things, in spectacular amounts.  Gingerly, he worked his way down the length of Charley’s cock until it was all the way in, and then he smiled warmly at him while waiting for his body to adapt to the intrusion.

“I love you, Chris,” he whispered.

Charley reached out and cupped the vampire’s face in his hands.

“I love you, too… Johnny.”

It was the first and last time that he would refer to him directly as such.

They began to move, rocking and grinding together.  Slowly at first, then building up momentum until Johnny was riding him steadily.  Just when Charley felt like he was starting to hold his own, Johnny flipped them over and wrapped his legs around him.

“Fuck me, Cherry.”

The request alone was nearly enough to make Charley come.

Johnny’s body was everything that he had pretended not to dare to dream.  Charley took him with all the awkwardness of the beginner that he was, but it hardly seemed to matter with the way that Johnny writhed beneath him, hips snapping to meet each eager thrust until he arched up with a grunt and made a hot and sticky mess between them.

The tightness around Charley’s cock, which was already bad enough, increased when Johnny came, and what little stamina he had mustered was no more.  His orgasm rolled through him like thunder, it was so enormous and so intense that it was actually kind of frightening.  Charley came hard, so hard that he couldn’t even make a sound.  All he could do was bury his face in Johnny’s neck.

And cling.

And tremble.

And _feel_.

*****

The boxcar lurched, one of the very few hiccups in an otherwise smooth ride.

“Hey, Cherry.”

“Hm?”

“Wouldn’t it be hilarious if we derailed right now for the whole country to see? Except for, you know, the sunlight thing.”

Charley rolled his eyes.  “Naked vampires discovered cuddling in a derailed train boxcar.  News at eleven.”

“One recently deflowered vampire, no less.”

“Master…”

Johnny chuckled into Charley’s chest and then kissed it for good measure.  “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.”

Charley grinned.  The more things changed…

“Master?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for saving me.”

A hand closed around Charley’s and squeezed.

“Thank you for saving _me_.”

A wave of affection washed over Charley.  It was so strong that he bit his lip to keep from saying something embarrassingly emotional.  God knew he had already done enough of that for one day.

“So where should we go for our next vacation?” he asked instead after clearing a peculiar lump in his throat.  “You know, Cheryl was telling me about this place in Washington.  What was the name of it?  Oh.  Forks.”

“No,” Johnny said most emphatically.

“No?”  Charley was curious.  “Why not?  Have you been there before?”

“I haven’t been there myself,” Johnny admitted.  “But I hear the vampires around that area sparkle in the sunlight.  That’s reason enough to avoid it like the plague.”

  
The End?

 

 

He was going to meet with the Authority tomorrow night.

He was going tell them that Fangtasia’s assailants were unknown.

He was going to lie.

Later, after all inquiries into the matter conveniently led nowhere, after everything went back to normal… he was going to have his revenge.  
  
On _all_ of them.

It was just a matter of time.

And Eric Northman had all the time in the world.


End file.
